


Palliative

by dashinaname



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 53,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6976750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashinaname/pseuds/dashinaname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She once said that a career will not choose you—you will do the choosing. When she walked into his life with no sound reason to, he thought it ridiculous, suspicious—nobody would hand out favors for free. But he was wrong; it took seeing her go to realize that. She did her choosing and once upon a time, someone chose him. And he, young and gullible, chose her not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities mentioned in this piece do not belong to me, with the exception of original characters, plot, and subplots.

"Oi, you've been playing since _forever_ ," yelled a voice unfamiliar to his ears, though raspy and drawling enough to register as trouble.

He flicked his left hand and turned to the owner of the voice just as the ball's sinking echoed through the park. His fingers adjusted his eyeglasses and through them he peered at the strangers huddled by the outdoor court's entrance in a formation reminiscent of the pompous yakuza. In his periphery, he saw Takao jogging to his side.

The apparent leader of the group who wore his hair in a pitiful state comparable to Haizaki Shougo's thrust his chin in the air. It was a typical territorial display, one he already expected from the countless encounters he and his fellow players had with troublemakers. And Haizaki.

"Time to get outta here, kiddos, we're taking over."

He would've said something but Takao beat him to it. "We've been here for only five minutes."

"So?"

The smell of danger positively hung in the summer air; Midorima wasn't taking any chances. An inkling that this was the "trouble" the Oha Asa had predicted he would run into was flying before his eyes like an overly-excited wasp. "Takao, let's go."

"But Shin-chan—"

"Let's find another court," he said with finality before turning to leave. "Take the ball and let's go."

Takao harrumphed and stomped away to retrieve the ball that had landed by the net post but the voice spoke again just as Midorima was lifting their bags off the wooden bleachers.

"Oi, leave the ball."

Midorima spun around in annoyance. "Excuse me?"

"It seems four-eyes have bad hearing as well, eh?" the leader said. His laughter was copied by his cronies. Midorima was growing more exasperated with his lazy, drawling voice. The leader dragged his feet towards him, hands in his pockets. "In case it ain't clear to you, we ain't got a ball to play with."

"That's rich," said Takao who had inched towards Midorima, now standing next to him.

"Yeah?"

Fist lifted, the leader launched right at Takao. Acting without thinking it through, Midorima put himself between his teammate and the hoodlum.

By now, Midorima regretted having ever acquiesced to Takao's idea of playing basketball out in the open. When the fist landed on his cheek, he realized it was the stupidest idea to have ever crossed his teammate's mind. When he hit Takao's arms, he concluded that there was no merit in doubting the accuracy of the Oha Asa.

_Make sure you avoid the wrong crowd today. Otherwise, trouble will be on its way._

The last dregs of consciousness allowed him to make a mental note: _Remind me to_ never _agree to this idiot's idea of fun._

And then he was out.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he came to but when his eyes opened to see a pair of running shoes—bright purple clashing against the dull gray asphalt—, the headache hit him with double the force.

He clutched at his head and gritted his teeth, which elicited a sharp pain shooting up his cheek. A groan escaped his throat.

Something cold pressed against the side of his face and he flinched in surprise. Instincts instructed him to bat it away, but as soon as he felt the pain alleviated, he paused. Eyes following the hand that held what he realized was a water bottle, he came face-to-face with a woman in a ponytail and running clothes.

"Can you hear me?" she asked in a soft, steady voice.

A grunt was all he could muster.

"Good. Anything else that hurts besides your cheek?"

Perhaps from the impact of his fall, Midorima wasn't able to form any coherent response, much less assess the damage he had acquired. The woman didn't force him and instead gently pressed her cold, damp fingers on the side of his neck. He closed his eyes in relief.

"Does this hurt? Grunt if it does, say nothing if it doesn't."

He stayed silent.

Her fingers pressed against his nape. "This?"

Silence.

She slipped her fingers between his neck and the asphalt. "This?"

Silence.

A sigh of relief escaped her. "You think you can sit? I'll help you up."

He grunted.

The cold from the water bottle left his cheek and he immediately lamented agreeing to her. One of her hands slipped to the side of his head and the other grasped his hand. Gingerly, she pulled him up. She was so careful that not even the shift in his center of gravity jarred him off his bearings.

When he was finally in a sitting position, she made him take the water bottle and guided his hand to press it once again on his cheek.

"I've called for an ambulance," she said, still in her soft tone. Midorima was slightly thankful for her calm voice. "Your friend needs more attention."

He started at the mention of Takao, his head whipping to turn to the other form slumped against the ground on his side. The image was blurry, and realizing that something was amiss, his empty hand probed for the glasses he was supposed to be wearing.

"Are these yours?" the woman asked, holding up the item. He nodded his head and before he could take them, she slipped them on his face, taking him aback. "They're chipped but I guess wearing them would ease off your headache."

With a clearer vision, he now regarded her with much more interest. The woman had the calmest of eyes that he'd ever seen—but they were just as inquisitive, probing, like how she had been all this while.

"What happened to Takao?" he managed to croak out, averting his gaze from her face to turn to his teammate. He noticed a gel pack was pressed against his jaw. Did she carry that with her?

"Socked to the jaw, mild concussion at the least and possible burner neck injury."

A chill ran down his spine. A neck injury? He turned to her again and she caught his gaze. "You're bluffing, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid not. He received quite the blow when he caught you after they knocked you out. His head was thrown off the side before he took the fall," she said. "Your assailants ran off after that. I had to call for the police and ambulance while attending to the two of you."

Her tone had steadily progressed from calm to assertive, as though she was very sure of herself. Midorima could only stare at her.

She turned away, sitting herself on the ground. He hadn't realized she had been kneeling. "Sorry I gave the gel pack to your friend. I don't carry more than one when I'm out running. The water bottle should suffice for you anyway."

And just like that, she was back to being calm.

"Are you a medical student?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "Am I that obvious?"

He grunted.

"You're the basketball players from Shutoku High, aren't you?"

He didn't bother being surprised. They were famous for having placed third in the Winter Cup, after all. "Yes."

"I'm sure you have your own gym. Why risk it out here?"

"That idiot made me."

"That makes you Idiot Number Two, then," she said, chuckling to herself. "Teenage boys and invincibility fables."

He chose to ignore her generalization. He was well aware that he was vulnerable to all kinds of danger. The Oha Asa had been an indispensable source of that truth. And if only he heeded its advice more than Takao's incessant whining, he wouldn't be weighed down with guilt.

His shoulders slumped forward. He wasn't even supposed to feel this way.

He would have told himself that had this happened months ago—that Takao brought this upon himself. But that phase of unwilling friendship had already been overcome thanks to his persistence even if Midorima denied it. Now he felt more than just guilty. He was angered.

He would have to find a way to avenge Takao.

The siren of the ambulance wrenched him out of his stupor. As soon as the vehicle pulled up in front of the court's entrance, the woman he still had to get the name of stood. The paramedics were quick to get off and unload a stretcher they wheeled next to them.

"He's all right. Bruised cheek is all. His friend has it worse," said she to one of the uniformed men who nodded before beckoning his fellows to lift Takao from the ground.

She turned to him. "Can you stand?" she asked, holding a hand out to him. Midorima took it and with some help, he managed to wriggle to a standing position, propped next to her small frame. A hint of nausea momentarily gripped him and he swayed to her direction. Another paramedic offered a hand and she let go after the larger man had draped Midorima's arm on his shoulders.

The three of them started for the ambulance where Takao had already been brought, the siren the only sound that penetrated his dulled senses. The afternoon sky was now streaked with orange rays.

Midorima belatedly realized that the trouble the Oha Asa pertained to had already come to pass and yet the day was still to end. Things couldn't get any worse, could they?

It was when he was seated next to her in the cramped vehicle that she spoke again. "You're Midorima Shintarou, right? I'm Hasegawa. Hasegawa Sayuri."

He pushed his glasses up his nose. He found her forwardness unsettling but he celebrated the fact that he didn't have to be one to ask for her name when he owed her. "Do you know me because you're a basketball enthusiast?"

She cracked him a small smile. "No. But I'm one of those who frequently pester coaches to have their athletes checked before and after games."

"You're a student volunteer," he said.

"That's right. Aside from completing the volunteering hours, teenage boys beating each other is quite the spectacle and an added bonus, by the way."

He glanced at her through the corners of his eyes. "I don't understand you."

She chuckled. "I don't expect you to. You're still a child, after all."

Annoying as she was for belittling his rather infantile impressions, a hint of wisdom attributable to experience brought her words some bearing that he found it an impossible task to dissent her. How old was she anyway?

Silence followed their little exchange and he turned to the still unconscious Takao who now wore a neck brace. There was indeed damage to the neck, then? Did this mean he might not be able to play for the Inter High?

He balled his hands in frustration. He would find a way to send those troublemakers to jail.

"Takao Kazunari-kun will be fine in two or three weeks. But I had to tell your coach to let you off practice until then," Hasegawa was suddenly saying.

The meaning of her words easily dawned on him. He sharply turned to her. "Let _us_ off practice? How did you even get hold of our coach?"

She lifted a green phone to his line of sight— _his_ phone. "I thought he would be on speed dial. I also called your parents." She lifted two identification cards. "Takao-kun's too."

She said these with such calm that his blood curdled to an alarming rate. She had to rummage for those among their belongings for sure!

With a jolt of the speeding ambulance and a throbbing head, Midorima found the answer to his question earlier.

Yes, things could definitely get worse.


	2. Guilt

A hand shot out as he was deposited on a wheelchair, clinging to one of the bags that Hasegawa had slung on her shoulders. She reeled from the force of the pull, catching herself in time before she could trip on her shoes.

"Yes?"

"My lucky item," Midorima said, holding up a hand to stop the nurse from pushing the wheelchair forward.

"Sorry?"

He pushed his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose. "The empty pot inside my bag. My lucky item."

Hasegawa's eyebrows furrowed but she didn't inquire further and instead unzipped the orange bag to retrieve the lucky item. Midorima was set to keep it at close proximity—for he all he knew, the distance could have diminished its effect, hence his recent misfortune.

The woman handed him the small flower pot before he was wheeled to the direction of the examination room. Positive that Hasegawa was doing all she could to keep herself from bursting out laughing, his lips thinned to keep his temper at bay. He owed her, after all.

Takao had been rushed to the emergency room as soon as the ambulance pulled up. Midorima's thoughts lingered on the sight of his unconscious form, and his anger spewed anew. If only they'd been careful, if only he hadn't been so easily swayed…

"Midorima-san," said the doctor. The way he pronounced his name left Midorima wondering if he'd been spacing out since the nurse left. The doctor's eyes lingered on the orange pot he was holding before he cleared his throat to address him again. "I'm going to examine you right now, okay?"

Midorima only nodded his head, barely interested. He was safe. Takao had ensured he wouldn't hit his head… at his expense.

When he was discharged half an hour later with a bandage on his cheek and painkillers in his system, he found Hasegawa standing by the nurse's lounge, speaking to a telephone. She easily spotted him and beckoned him over, indicating the seat where she had deposited their bags. He wordlessly did as she asked, staring at the flower pot as he listened to the last words she said to the receiver.

"—update me. Thank you, Inspector." The sound of the receiver being put down and she spoke to the attending nurse. "Thank you, Kaori-nee."

"Anytime, Sayu-chan."

Hasegawa sat next to him.

"You personally know the nurse?" he asked without looking up from inspecting the empty flower pot.

"Mm-hmm," she said. "She's a senpai from my first year in college. How did the physical exam go?"

"Well, in fact."

"The doctor gave you anything?"

"Painkillers."

"I see." She drummed her fingers against her knees. "By the way, I called the police department. They said they caught your assailants."

Midorima started and turned to look at her amiable face. For the first time, he was truly at awe with her. "T-they did, in fact?"

She nodded. "They did, _in fact_." She gave him a stupid grin.

He looked away, adjusting his eyeglasses. Here he was, almost grateful and her teasing soured it all.

"At least now you won't go looking for them yourself."

"I don't intend to do that." He lied. Partially.

"Really?" she said, disbelieving. What was it with adults assuming the worst in the young? "In the ambulance you looked like you were ready to kill."

He glared at her. "I'm not stupid," he snapped and looked away again. "I can get suspended at the very least."

Catching his drift, she asked, "What could be worse than suspension?"

"A serious injury. Or sitting out on a game."

A weight descended on top of his head and he felt her gently mussing his hair. "Teenage boys and sports, definitely the strongest of marriages I've ever seen."

As the burning of his cheeks was made known, he gently pushed her arm away. She didn't protest.

"Hey, your friend Takao-kun will be fine. He didn't acquire any additional injuries," she said, a hint of despondence in her tone. "Kaori-nee said his neck will heal in two weeks tops. You'll still have plenty of time to practice for the Inter High."

How did she even know— _Oh, right._ She was a volunteer.

He didn't say anything else, feeling as though he had exhausted his daily quota for socializing. It was like shooting three-pointers—meeting and talking to strangers and people in general. He would reach his limit whether he liked it or not.

"Are you mad at me for ratting you out? It was necessary. An SOP. I'm sorry, Midorima-kun."

Midorima deduced from those mumbled sentences that she meant she was obligatorily talkative. Or something else entirely, a term more appropriate than merely being nosy—the noisy kind of nosy, in fact. Despite the calm manner by which she delivered her lines, he couldn't help feeling antsy while she was around. Like there was a good chance she would unearth a secret of his anytime she wanted.

By rummaging through his belongings or by merely guessing.

"Midorima-kun—"

"I don't think I've granted you the permission to address me so familiarly," he said, glaring her way. "Don't act like we're friends. We're not."

Her amiable expression didn't falter. She only nodded her head in response, lips pursed. "That's my cue."

She stood from her seat, looking down at him. "Your family and Takao-kun's should arrive soon. My business here is complete," she said, still unnervingly calm.

She walked away and whispered something to her senpai's ear before she turned the corner without sparing him a glance.

All he could do was follow her retreating shadow, letting his mouth fall open. It progressively diminished, getting smaller and smaller, until there was none of its last thread glancing the white hospital wall.

He stared back at his empty flower pot. What did he do? What did _she_ just do?

Things could only get worse now, couldn't they?

o-o

Darkness greeted him when he finally regained consciousness. Eyes heavy, body barely moving, a numbness from the left side of his face slowly registered. Then just abruptly came the pain and he opened his eyes to be greeted by a white canvas he belatedly realized was the ceiling.

He didn't remember his room to have a white ceiling. Where was he?

To find an answer to this unspoken question, he tried moving his head to survey his surroundings, only to realize that he couldn't. His frustration escaped his throat in the form of a groan.

"Takao?"

A movement to his periphery caught his attention, and with a bit of straining his barely-focused view, he found the owner of the deep voice standing some yards away.

He was in a hospital, Takao realized.

"Shin-chan," he said, wincing from the pain that speaking brought to his blasted jaw. "What happened?"

Midorima, sporting a plaster on his face, slowly ambled towards the side of the bed. He adjusted his cracked lenses before answering, "You've been admitted. Neck injury, but nothing too serious."

Perhaps it was from the injury or the drugs he'd been injected with, but his friend sounded extra glum.

"I see," he whispered, releasing a heavy sigh. "You okay?"

"Yes. Only a bruise and a cut."

Takao heard the lie in his voice but he didn't push it, knowing that his friend would only mask it with another. He was a _tsundere_ through and through.

"Thanks for taking one for me," Takao managed to say.

Midorima only grunted. Takao sniggered at the thought of Midorima feeling guilty after taking the softer blow. Granted, the impact of his socking had been probably lessened when Midorima stepped in, but Takao had to cushion his fall, letting his guard down. If he were to think it through, the hit had been delivered at a moment of vulnerability, hence the damage.

But not an ounce of resentment bubbled in his chest. Had it been the other way around, he would take one for Midorima; he was a friend after all.

He was about to tell the green-haired boy that there was no use to beating himself about what had already happened but the door to his room was thrown open.

"Nii-chan!" a ball of bouncing, dark pigtails screeched.

"See you tomorrow," said Midorima before leaving his side.

Takao managed a smile. "Yeah, see you."

Midorima bowed to his mother in greeting before closing the door behind him. A shift in the mattress alerted him to the small arms of the girl trying to climb up the bed. He chuckled.

"Nii-chan!"

"Chi-chan, keep it down, nii-chan needs his sleep."

Takao smiled as his mother deposited the pouting girl on the bed with a gentle reminder to stay put. She immediately latched onto his hand, crying silently. "I've had lots of sleep, mom."

"I bet you did," his mother said, ruffling his hair. "You got knocked out, after all."

Chieki squeezed his fingers too tight. He turned to her just as two fat beads of tears fell down her chubby cheeks. "What is it, Chi-chan? Go on, you can tell nii-chan."

The small girl sniffed. "Will nii-chan be playing ball?"

There was no use to feel down when he'd gone through the worst of his injury but at the sight of the tear-stained face of his baby sister, his heart began to sink. Before he could answer her, the door opened again to admit someone he'd never met. Probably enthused by the act of gate-crashing a tearful family reunion, she was grinning from ear to ear.

"Don't cry, cutie pie, your nii-chan will be playing for the Inter High."

o-o

After a series of introductions and explanations—mostly by the haggard nurse who barged in as soon as Hasegawa finished her sentence—, Takao was acquainted with the soul who brought him and Midorima to safety following the court scuffle.

His mother, instead of lecturing the woman on respect of privacy, was choking her to death with an embrace. Looking extremely inconvenienced by the strange people in the room, the nurse thought better to attend to him and check his state.

A few questions asked and some adjustments to his fluids and she was gone.

"Hasegawa-san?" Takao said as soon as his mother released the woman.

Dark eyes turned to him, a grin on her face. "Yes?"

"Thank you," he said, keeping his tone neutral. She didn't feel like someone he could fully trust. The weird she projected felt too familiar given the many types of weird he'd encountered his entire life—Midorima-weird, Hanamiya-weird, Akashi-weird… he could go on.

She shook her head, waving her hands in the air to dismiss his supposed bashfulness. "I just did what must be done. Don't mention it."

"But if you weren't there, my son would probably still be lying around unconscious," said his mother, taking her hand in hers. "What can we do to repay you?"

Hasegawa's eyes fell to the ground, thumb and forefinger massaging her chin as she mulled over the offer. So, she was that kind of soul. Guess genuine kind-heartedness was difficult to come by these days.

Takao averted his eyes to the wall, disinterested.

"How about you allow me to visit Takao-kun in the evenings to help him with his missed homework?"

Takao's eyebrows furrowed and he turned back to them. Was she serious?

"Eh? But that would be another favor to owe you, Hasegawa-san!"

_Right, mom._

"Then pay double by not telling anyone else of my visits," she said, smiling. "You can keep a secret, can't you?"

_What?_

"I—I don't understand."

_Right again, mom._

"You don't have to. I just want to help is all."

This was the epitome of weird.

His mother sighed. "Fine, if that's what you want, Hasegawa-san."

"It is! Thank you, Takao-san!" she said, bowing to the older woman. She walked up to Takao's bed and patted his sister on the head before turning her smiling face towards him. "See you tomorrow, Takao-kun."

He wasn't about to take this nonsense. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice betraying his distrust.

She cocked her head to the side. "There's this friend of yours who's feeling guilty. I thought he'd feel better if you don't miss out on so much while you're recuperating."

"Shin-chan?" The words had already tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, taken aback by what she said.

"Oh, is that his nickname? How cute," she said, ignoring his shock altogether. "Don't tell him I told you he was feeling guilty."

"I already know that," he said, narrowing his eyes at her. How was it that she knew so much? Fat chance that she was able to extract as much from Midorima even if she had spoken to him.

"Much better then. I don't think Midorima has admitted that to himself. Or maybe he has, but he won't do anything about it. He seems that kind of person anyway," she said, prattling on as though she was thinking out loud. "Why don't you tell me?"

Takao found his jaw barely moving when he muttered in confusion, "Just… who are you?"

She blinked. "I'm Hasegawa Sayuri."

"Not that. Why do you know so much?"

"What do you mean? I met you and your friend just this afternoon. I'm merely making conjectures here."

Takao could almost laugh but he didn't. Whatever this woman was thinking, he would have to find out.

o-o

When she turned up the next evening a little after Midorima and the team left behind the homework and a copy of the lectures he missed that day, Takao realized she was serious.

"Hello, Takao-kun," she said, the jovial tone clashing with how winded she looked. Hair thrown to a messy bun atop her head, eyes heavy, she plopped down on the seat opposite his bed. He jerked at the loud noise when she deposited her knapsack and _two_ tomes on the floor.

He craned his neck far enough to read the title of the book on top: _Starters' Surgery_.

"You're a medical student?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm," she said, smiling. "So, did he leave some homework?"

Reluctant as he was, he indicated the pile of papers sitting beside her. She picked them up like an overexcited grade-schooler.

"Ah, I miss high school," she said in a murmur, flitting through the pages of the photocopied notes. Something must have caught her attention for she started giggling. "Is this Midorima's handwriting?" she asked, pointing at the page.

Takao nodded. She giggled a little more, and it occurred to him that she was awfully fond of his teammate. The reason for which currently eluded him. Midorima wasn't the type to often be the receiving end of something as warm as fondness.

"So, shall we start? I'll tutor you on the day's lectures then I'll help you do the homework."

Takao tried a last time. "Are you sure about this? I mean, thank you, Hasegawa-san, but don't you have to study as well?"

"I do, but if I don't help you, who would?"

"My teammates offered to help me."

She smiled. "But you declined because you thought you were inconveniencing them. That won't work on me, so don't even try."

Takao could not understand her line of reasoning.

o-o

The second evening, she had heavier eyes but was just as effective as the first time. Truth be told, he was amazed by her teaching, one which commanded full attention unlike some of his teachers who droned on and bored the hell out of him. Takao would give her that much.

In fact, he felt like he was learning faster. But he wasn't about to attribute this solely to her. One-on-one had always been an efficient manner of studying for him and Midorima, much like practicing their trump card plays.

"Hasegawa-san," he said, making her pause from explaining a concept in chemistry. "Why are you doing this?"

"I already told you," said she.

"Is that even possible? That you _only_ want to help?"

Shrugging, she abandoned the notes and walked over the bed to sit on its foot. "What is it with you teenagers assuming the worst in adults?" she said, looking at the door.

Takao's throat had gone dry.

"Give me until tomorrow. If I still haven't proven you wrong, we can call the deal off and act like we never knew each other. How does that sound?"

He averted his gaze. She clapped a hand on his leg before going back to the seat to resume their study session only punctured by the nurse's check-up.

He noticed that the nurse was all amiable to Hasegawa, even calling her by her first name and joking with her.

Was she really that trusted?

o-o

"You see, chromosomes can—"

Hasegawa's explanation was cut off as the door opened and the nurse she called her senpai announced, "Sayu-chan! The carrot man is here!"

 _Carrot man_?

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh _shit_ ," said Hasegawa, panicking. "Stall him, Kaori-nee! Give me two minutes!"

Once the door was closed, he asked, "The carrot man?"

"Your friend," she said, gathering her knapsack and books. She threw the whole bundle under his bed before rearranging the pile of papers on the couch.

When she was finished, she turned to him with wide eyes. "I'm going to pretend I don't exist for as long as you pretend I don't, okay?"

"Why—"

"Operation Help Carrot Man's Friend Without Carrot Man Knowing," she whispered in a hurry before diving under his bed just as the door opened to reveal the shooting guard.

He was wearing the team jacket and pants. Takao looked at his green hair. Then back at the orange uniform.

He couldn't help it. He guffawed. How did he miss that? He'd been playing with him for over a year!

Takao could almost see Hasegawa's knowing grin in the darkness beneath his bed.

"What are you laughing about?" Midorima asked as he sat on the couch with Mr. Ribbit.

"Nothing," said Takao, wiping the tears from his eyes. His neck had started to throb from throwing his head forward as he doubled over from laughter. "What brings you? Miss me already?"

"Don't be stupid," he said, turning away.

"So what is it, Shin-chan?"

"I was wondering if you would like to eat something aside from hospital food."

The corner of his lips was drawn to a smirk. "Aww, that's so sweet, Shin-chan!"

"Shut up."

"How about a burger?" He felt a slight thud from below, as though Hasegawa had bumped onto his bed. "And some fries." Another thud.

_Oh, I'm getting an idea._

"And soda."

Another thud.

"Not junk food, idiot," said Midorima, adjusting his glasses. He stood up and peered down at him with a weathered expression. "Whatever, I'm getting something edible."

"Shin-chan, wait!" Takao called. He wasn't going to let Midorima bother himself with something so simple when it took all his energy to be this nice. For all he knew, he was only doing this to ease off the guilt, which he shouldn't even be feeling in the first place. "Mom will be bringing food over. You don't have to."

Midorima paused and turned to Mr. Ribbit. "Fine. See you tomorrow, then."

"Okay. Be careful on your way back."

He only waved before closing the door behind him. A few moments of deafening silence passed following the echo of his friend's retreating footsteps before he spoke again to indicate that the coast was clear.

Hasegawa crawled out of her hiding place and sat on the floor for a good thirty seconds before she climbed up the couch. "Wow. That was the most stressful five minutes of my life."

"You have to thank me for getting rid of him," said Takao.

"By ticking off junk food?" she said, rolling her eyes. Just now, she reminded him of Midorima's stickler ways. "That was a double-edged sword. You were trying to spite me."

Takao only smirked. "You can say that."

She fixed the messy bun on top of her head and puffed her cheeks. "Anyway, I'll sneak in some junk food tomorrow, if you like."

Takao amended. She was no Midorima.

"Sure."

She was smiling again.

o-o

It was the seventh tutorial session and they were taking a break. Well, _he_ was.

"Hey, Hasegawa-san."

"Hmm?" she said, shifting from her reclined position on the couch as she read from one of her tomes. He wondered how she managed to keep it from falling over and smacking her on the face.

"I think I understand now."

She closed the book and placed it on her stomach, turning to him with a smile. "You do?"

"Yes."

She was trying to make Midorima see that Takao hadn't, by a single mite, changed after the incident. That he was truly all right. That way, he wouldn't be hung up on his guilt, which had been completely pointless. He took one for Takao. When he could have just stayed and watched, he took the blow. Midorima didn't owe him anything. It was Takao who owed him.

And he owed him as much as easing off that groundless guilt.

After voicing this out to her, he said, "Thank you, Hasegawa-san."

"Sure. But I told you. I _only_ want to help. You're doing all the work yourself. You've been a great tutee all this while."

He smiled at her.

When she bade him goodnight, he realized she sounded like someone he knew, only milder and kinder.

o-o

"Nii-chan, where's your girlfriend?"

"EH? TAKAO'S GOT A GIRLFRIEND?" Miyaji shouted, rising from his seat.

At the wake of the captain's exaggerated shock, the small girl cowered and all but wriggled into the small space between Takao and the wall. Midorima internally rolled his eyes. It was a relief that Mrs. Takao had already gone out. What embarrassment.

"Chi-chan, who are you talking about? Nii-chan doesn't have a girlfriend."

"You do! The girl was here the other night!"

Takao clamped a hand over his sister's mouth and grinned sheepishly at all of them. "She's talking about the nurse."

Midorima's eyes narrowed. He wasn't buying it but he wasn't joining in on the teasing or the prodding his teammates were now set to do. Like they'd get anything from Takao.

Besides, Midorima could only marvel at how well Takao looked. He'd been recovering quickly just as Hasegawa had predicted.

To say that he was relieved was making an understatement.


	3. Seven

 

"Oi, Shin-chan, wait up!" Takao yelled as Midorima started cycling. The idiot all but vaulted the last yard from the cart, landing clumsily on his backside. "Are you seriously trying to kill me just because you lost the bet?"

Midorima didn't let the reminder of what transpired three weeks ago induce so much as a flinch from him; Takao was conveniently oblivious to the implications of his words. Instead, he continued to pedal in silence.

Takao had indeed gotten better in two weeks' time, but the coach had made sure to give him one more week for full recovery. After being yelled at for venturing out while they had the gym open for practice every day and after his mother and sister wailed like he died while his father glared at him upon arriving home in the evening, everything had settled back into their usual routine. But something was also different… perhaps he'd only been thinking of his teammate too often these days that he'd begun to see him in a much better shape than Midorima had previously expected. He'd incurred a neck injury, after all.

Which was a new brand of weird.

"Shin-chan," Takao said from his lazy reclining on the cart. "You're awfully quiet today. Did the Oha Asa advise against unnecessary gossip again?"

No, the Oha Asa said he was number three today, which meant he would run into some good luck. But for some reason—in the form of the woman he hadn't seen since that day at the hospital—, he didn't feel like looking forward to whatever luck it was.

He wasn't sure what he'd said to make her walk out like that. He had only stated a fact—that they were not friends. Was she actually under the impression that they were? He owed her, yes, but that didn't mean he would offer his friendship to return the favors she handed out like a piece of candy.

Besides, something about her seemed too… off. The kind of off that Kuroko and just about every human being that he had the chance of meeting projected. But mostly Kuroko's.

"Shin-chan, can we eat out for a bit? I don't want to go home just yet," said Takao as they were pulling up the main street.

"Fine."

Ten minutes later they had parked the cart outside a modest café in the district's center and Takao took the table at the farthest corner. Midorima followed, sinking into the seat with a huff. As the waiter was leaving after taking their orders, his ears began to itch. A shiver ran down his spine when the bell tinkled, signaling the arrival of another customer.

Takao perked up in his seat as the lively chatter filled the café. The squeak of chairs being pulled alerted him of the presence by their side, two tables away.

"Oh, Aki, don't be so pessimistic. I'm sure you nailed the oral quiz."

"Nailed, Sayu? If you heard your answer after hearing mine you wouldn't be saying that."

The chuckle that was too familiar to his ears rang through the relative quiet. He risked a glance towards the owner of the merry laughter.

"I just happened to pick the easier question. You would've done just as well if it had been the other way around, if not better," Hasegawa said, patting the head of another woman sitting across from her while their other companion shook their upset classmate's shoulders.

"Hasegawa-san?"

Midorima whipped his head towards Takao who was already on his feet. His mouth fell agape. _How—?_

The scraping of a chair against the tiled floor. "Takao-kun!" she said, overjoyed. Midorima turned his head very slightly to see his teammate fly to the college student's inviting arms.

At that moment he could feel his chin touch the cold floor. What on Earth was happening?

"All healed up, I see," said Hasegawa, clapping Takao's shoulders as she stood on tiptoe to embrace him. When they pulled away, she pinched at his cheeks, giggling furiously.

"Ouch, that hurts, Hasegawa-san."

Befuddled was understating how utterly confused Midorima was. He turned to his lucky item for the day, a smiling Buddha, for some enlightenment.

Nothing came.

"What are you doing here?" Takao asked, the excitement in his voice spilling out like Tokyo's most horrendous thunderstorms.

"Eating out, what else?" Hasegawa replied, chuckling. "By the way, these are my friends, Yoshioka Aki and Yoshioka Natsumi. Aki, Natsu, meet Takao Kazunari."

"Same surnames?"

"Fraternal twins."

"Oh," Takao interjected, chuckling. "Nice to meet you, Yoshioka-san and Yoshioka-san."

The same words were reciprocated by the twins before Takao started and was suddenly dragging Midorima out of his seat. By some miracle the shorter basketball player managed to peel off Midorima's sorry backside from the upholstery and he found himself standing next to the girls' table, looking down on the floor for some reason.

"I'd like you to meet my friend, Midorima Shintarou."

"Hello, Midorima-san," the twins said in a chorus.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Sorry, he's a bit shy," said Takao. An elbow to his ribs and he was doubled over in what could pass as a bow. "That's him saying it's nice to meet you too."

The laughter that ensued from the object of his withdrawn attitude pulled him out of the pain-induced daze and he turned to a Hasegawa who clapped Takao at the back, bent over in a hysterical fit.

"What are you in fact laughing about?" said Midorima in a moment of anger.

Hasegawa dabbed at her eyes. "That was certainly effective," she replied, for the first time looking him in the eye. "Say, are the two of you alone? Why don't we share a table?"

"Is it fine with Yoshioka-san and Yoshioka-san?" said Takao.

"Stop that, Takao. You're in fact a hawk, not a parrot," Midorima grumbled under his breath.

Hasegawa started laughing again. Midorima gritted his teeth in exasperation. _Too. Many. People. To. Meet. Today._

Several shifting and shuffling later, their odd group of high school boys and college girls were huddled around a table, with Midorima squeezed next to Takao and one of the twins whose first name he'd already forgotten. He instead went by with Upset Yoshioka to save himself the trouble.

"Today's lucky item?" she asked, regarding the Buddha sitting on the edge of the table.

"Yes."

"How's practice going? You think you're getting into the championship league this year?" Hasegawa started as their orders arrived.

Irked, Midorima answered acidly, "That goes without saying. Of course every team thinks that."

"Sayu, are you sure you're volunteering again? How can you resist the urge to scrub the mouths of rude teenagers like him?" said Upset Yoshioka, gesturing towards him in distaste.

A vein had begun dangerously pulsing at his temple.

"I can always rely on the likes of Takao-kun to assuage _that_ urge, Aki," said Hasegawa after swallowing a bite off her sandwich.

The vein was ready to burst.

How did it happen anyway? When and where did Takao meet her? Why were they acting so familiarly around each other?

"I kid," Hasegawa said, smiling at Midorima. "The children certainly have different personalities but they have the same love for the sports they play."

Takao opened his mouth to mimic puking and Hasegawa whacked him upside the head.

"Hasegawa-san, that was me trying an impression of Shin-chan," he said, nursing the sore spot.

"Silly."

"Wait, let me get this straight," said Supportive Yoshioka. "You met these two because they got into a fight?"

"We didn't fight back," said Takao and Midorima simultaneously.

"They didn't fight back," Hasegawa chimed in, nodding her head. "Outwardly reckless but inherently good boys."

"More like cowardly,—" said Upset Yoshioka.

"—spineless teenagers," said Supportive Yoshioka.

Midorima shot up from his seat. The incident was not meant to be made the subject of a sick joke. Granted, Takao was more than better. But still… He balled his hands into fists.

Takao pulled him back down. "Eat," instructed the idiot.

The Oha Asa said he would run into some good luck today. The day was almost over. Where was the good in all these?

"Anyway, you're both second years now, aren't you?" said Supportive Yoshioka, as though broaching another subject would dissipate the cloud hovering above Midorima's head. "Any plans for college?"

Upset Yoshioka rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, Natsu. None."

Takao was quick to shake his head as he chewed. "That's not true. I'm going to college. Shin-chan plans to take medicine, right, Shin-chan?"

The twins openly gaped at this declaration—Midorima expected as much. But Hasegawa, for some reason, only wore a wistful smile on her face.

"What? You're—"

"—joking, right?"

"No," said Takao, catching their meaning. "He's been vocal about it since the school year opened."

Midorima stayed silent. It was true. He'd been best at biology and chemistry anyway, so why not try medicine?

But then again, Takao had insisted it wasn't the only reason why. Midorima would like to think he was wrong to assume something as preposterous as an ulterior motive—a genuine desire to aid to ailing people. Really?

"Is that so?" said Hasegawa, putting down an empty cup of coffee. "You should study well, then. We'll see you at Todai in two years' time."

She was smiling at him. For the first time in three weeks, she was _really_ smiling at him. Uncharacteristically thankful for the twins' jibes, Midorima was able to hide the familiar burning of his cheeks with a well-timed adjustment of his thick-rimmed glasses.

"Shut up, Sayu."

"What do you mean—"

"—'we'? You're graduating—"

"—this winter! If there's anyone—"

"—who's going to see this mongrel on campus—"

"—it would be us—"

"—repeaters," they said in unison.

"Not you—"

"—and other prodigious—"

"—overachievers," they finished.

The revelation of Hasegawa's academic standing overrode his annoyance with the twins' manner of speaking and comments against him.

He made a mental calculation. If she were to finish medicine on time, then she must be at least twenty-four years old.

 _Seven_ years his senior.

Somehow the age gap launched him into retracing the words he spoke to her. She was way ahead of him in years and in experience and he acted like the prick he usually was. Old or young, he just couldn't take too much crap out of anyone.

Would it be wise to use more tact now?

After a few more tasteless exchanges, they were leaving the café without anyone sporting a bruise or broken pride. Hasegawa embraced Takao once more before nodding at him wordlessly. She was about to depart and join her friends when he decided to speak.

"Hasegawa," he blurted out. "-san," he added.

She wrinkled her nose at him as she spun around. "If you're showing me respect because I'm seven years your senior—"

"It's not—"

"— _or_ because I'm a prospective senpai _or_ because my friends convinced you that I'm some sort of genius, then don't. Don't force yourself. It's insulting."

Midorima's throat had run dry. She was still wearing the same wistful smile from before.

"I appreciate the gesture but at least be a little more honest with yourself. Until I've shown you why I deserve to be respected, you can say whatever you want to say. I don't really care." She shrugged her shoulders, grinning. "See you around, both of you."

And just like that, she turned on her heels and jogged to catch up with the twins.

The weight of her words lingered in the air even as she disappeared, turning the corner like the last time she did. Even though he wished to feel the slightest bit irritated, he couldn't. Needless to say, his opinion of her had changed.

"Takao," he said, walking to the bike and sitting himself on the pedestal. "How did you know her?"

"She was in my room when I woke up," his teammate answered as he hopped in.

Midorima pedaled, trying not to seem too surprised by her eccentricity. "And?"

"She came to visit me during the evenings of my hospital stay."

"She's in fact your _girlfriend_?"

Takao snorted. "No. She proposed to tutor me on the day's lectures and help with the homework."

There was the feeling of ice-cold water being poured over his head. "That was why you declined our help."

His teammate chuckled. "Do my ears deceive me? Do I hear jealousy in your voice, Shin-chan?"

"Shut it."

"Kidding. Well, she kinda coaxed my mom into thinking that by keeping it a secret from everyone, we'd have returned the favor we owed."

"I don't understand her."

"Me too!" Takao said, moving to sit at the front of the cart. "When I asked her why, she said, 'There's this friend of yours wallowing in guilt. I thought he'd feel a little better if you don't miss out on so much while you're here.' Non-verbatim, by the way. I can't really remember."

Midorima stopped pedaling.

"Shin-chan?"

She could tell that much? She went so far as that? And was it true? Did she only just want to help? These days, people did not go handing out favors for nothing.

"Shin-chan, hey, I don't blame you for what happened. It was all my fault. I knew you've been feeling guilty and she guessed right. You've been acting way too weird ever since I got out and that's saying something."

Midorima pushed his glasses up his nose. Takao had gotten the reason for his stillness all wrong but he had to admit that his shoulders felt lighter than before.

So _that_ was the good luck he ran into.

He continued to pedal, ignoring Takao's whining all the way home.


	4. Sphygmomanometer

It was a Sunday when he caught her running around the park again. He had decided to take a run as well, restless after six days of practice for the Inter-High next week. Hair thrown in a high ponytail, purple shoes against the asphalt, she jogged at an easy pace that her shorter legs allowed.

Positive that he would outrun her if he kept up with his stride, he slowed down. He would take a detour once the path curves. He didn't feel like chatting, and it was a certainty that she would start conversation if she ever saw him.

But to his horror, she paused from her running, bent down, and tied her shoelaces.

Before he could turn on his heels and retrace his track, he was already too close to escape her notice.

"Midorima?" she said, looking up as he passed her.

The hairs on his neck stood at the lack of familiarity. Had she taken the hint?

He paused and turned to her. "It's you."

She was smiling, finished with her shoelaces and hopping as she got up. "Hi, you playing here today?"

"No. I'm taking a jog, in fact."

This Hasegawa was stiffer than usual. "That's right. Best to avoid getting socked by some dumbass."

She started running again, passing him. He followed, quickly catching up with her. Elusive was the reason why he matched his pace with hers, choosing to jog a foot from her. Perhaps he slightly felt obligated to at least converse with her, after what she did.

"How's Takao-kun?" she asked.

"Fine."

She hummed. "You?"

He looked at her through the corner of his eyes. "What do you mean?"

She smiled. "I'm asking you how you are."

"I'm fine."

"I see. The preliminaries start next week. I expect to see you."

"So it's true. You're volunteering again."

"Of course. It's fun to volunteer for the games."

"How so? That you get to rile up teenagers?"

She laughed. But it was a strained laugh. He didn't know if it was because she was panting or because of the atmosphere. "That's just a bonus. There's something rejuvenating about the energy that teenagers give off when they play. It's different from college boys."

He wouldn't admit that he didn't understand. He'd have to find out himself when he could.

"Well, this is my last lap," she said as they neared the entrance. "You're going to med school, right?"

Why was she broaching the topic again? "I think."

"If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask. I'm just around the corner." Throwing a small smile over her shoulder, she exited through the gates in a brisk walk.

Was it really that easy to hand out favors?

o-o

"Hasegawa-san?"

She looked up from furiously jotting down on a piece of paper on a clipboard and turned to look at the owner of the sing-song voice. Her lips immediately formed a grin before she threw her arms around the basketball player.

"Izuki-kun! Long time, no see!" she said, squeezing him tightly.

When she released him, he said, "Long time, no see, indeed mis-see."

She wrinkled her nose at him but chuckled nonetheless. She missed his puns no matter how corny they were. And today they were particularly lame. Perhaps because of the opening? Looking over his shoulder, she found the other Seirin members and their coach standing, blanching from her display of affection.

She waved at them. "Hello, everyone! Nice to see you again!" Noticing the new faces fidgeting at the back of the group, she cracked a smile. "Hello, rookies, I'm Hasegawa Sayuri. I'll be examining you today."

She opened her arms and beckoned Riko to come over. The young coach, as always, hesitated before acquiescing. "You think you'd win today?" she said, patting the smaller girl on the head.

"'Course," Riko said, clearly nervous. "We have to."

"Well, I hope no one gets hurt," Sayuri said, offering her a tight-lipped smile. The memory of two years ago was as fresh as though it had been only yesterday when she heard the crack of a knee and the anguished cry from Kiyoshi. "By the way, how is Teppei?" she said as she handed Riko a separate document to fill out.

"Last I heard, he's doing great. Alex-san has been very accommodating."

"I'm sure he'd want to see you win. But no pressure, Winter Cup champs," she said, sniggering as she retrieved the clipboard she'd tossed over her shoulder in her excitement when she saw Izuki. "All right, line up. Jackets off when you take the seat."

Hyuuga Junpei, the captain who looked ready to throw up his lunch, gave her a perfunctory greeting before she took his blood pressure and asked him some questions, ending the check-up with, "So… have you asked Riko out yet?"

He immediately blanched. "Hasegawa-san!"

"Just shitting with you," she said, putting up her two fingers. "But didn't that relax you just now, Hyuuga-kun?"

He only adjusted his eyeglasses, reminding her of someone. The beginnings of a smile played on her lips as she caught sight of the large swarm of orange-clad teenagers hovering a few yards from Seirin. On the table next to hers, fellow volunteers were busy with the other teams hailing from all parts of Tokyo.

The first day of the preliminaries was always the busiest, since a few to no medical emergencies occurred in the subsequent days following the opening—at least when factoring out the bloody battles with Kirisaki Daiichi on one side of the court.

When Hyuuga left the seat and was replaced by the cute, cute, cute boy named Kuroko, Sayuri's face split in half.

"Hello, Kuroko-kun!" she said to him. "How do you feel today?" she asked as he held out his arm for her to wrap the cuff of the sphygmomanometer. In her years of experience, she'd never encountered arms of a basketball player that were as lean as his. He'd gained some mass, though.

"I feel good, Hasegawa-san," he said in his usual monotone, his bright, blue eyes staring at her like he was about to dissect her. He'd always given off the vibe of someone who could see through your soul, and as much as she liked dissecting people—or cadavers, for that matter—on her own, she couldn't put him under a category. He was on a completely different league.

"How about you?" he asked in his _very_ energetic manner of asking.

"I feel pumped up," she said as she noted his BP. "Can I expect new tricks from you today?" she asked as she leaned over to listen to his heartbeat.

"If the need arises," he answered before she placed the stethoscope's head over his heart.

"Looking forward to them," she said. "Okay, turn around. Inhale then hold."

Kuroko followed and she placed the head on his back. When they finished, she lightly pinched his cheek and wished him good luck.

When the rest of the team finished, she gave Riko one last embrace before they went on to their locker room.

"Next!" she called and the Shuutoku team approached, their coach heading the flock with his arms crossed. He looked like a constipated shepherd of sheep whose wool he dyed a horrendous hue of orange.

"Hi, Uncle," she greeted.

"You always drop formalities, Sayuri," said the old man.

She laughed. "You just did." She handed a document for him to sign.

"Eh? Hasegawa-san and coach are family?" said the straw-haired captain. "How?"

"Keep quiet, Miyaji," said Uncle Masaaki.

"Aren't you proud a doctor is in the family, my mother's older brother?" said Sayuri, dropping the answer to his captain's question. Even as the old man was bent over to sign, he was still a tree and Sayuri had to look up as she gave him her best pouting expression.

He turned his tired eyes on her. "I still don't understand how someone as ridiculous thought to become medical student in the first place."

"Ouch," said Sayuri, shrinking back on her chair.

He capped the pen and placed it back on the holder. "Well? Aren't you going to start your check-up, Hasegawa-sensei?"

She beamed and straightened on her seat. Her uncle was just being his usual sadistic self. "A'right, line up, boys!"

Takao was first to take the seat by her desk, all smiles. "So you're his niece?"

"That's right. Isn't the world too small?" she said as she wrapped the cuff around his arm, peering at the gauge and pumping the bulb.

"Why then did you have to call him up using Shin-chan's phone?"

"I used up all my credit," she answered, shrugging. It was a lie. "Hey, your BP's a bit high. Too excited?"

Takao nodded. "Kinda. Seirin's on another block so we must make it to the championship league this year to face them."

"Avenging last year's defeat?" she asked as she listened to his heartbeat. _Definitely excited_ , she deduced from its rapid rate.

"Hell, yeah. We didn't get to have a proper rematch last Winter." He turned around at her gesture and held his breath.

"I'm also rooting for the adorable Kuroko-kun so I'm torn," she said as she finished filling out his record.

"Eh, why him? I've got my eyes on that shadow!"

"I met his team first." She smiled and punched him lightly on the chest. "Relax for a bit or you'll never see him in court."

He smirked at her. Sayuri's heart skipped at that moment, finally glimpsing the basketball player in this teen. There was always something wonderful with their spirited expressions, and she missed her youth whenever she happened to see. "I know that."

"Good. Get up. Let me finish work."

He chortled before peeling himself off the seat to admit the wide-eyed captain. Apparently, he couldn't see the similarities between her and Uncle Masaaki, which he voiced out. He wouldn't; she inherited her looks from her father, after all.

From there she continued chatting with the teens to get their minds off the coming games even for just as long as she was performing her duties. Most of them looked ready to crush their opponents, but not one of them rivaled the stiff look on Midorima's face when he sat on the table, a huge raccoon Shigaraki figure cradled on his lap.

"You can put that down," she told him as she took his arm. Lean but hard, like a true shooting guard's. He had his fingers taped as usual.

"It's my lucky item."

"What difference does distance from your lucky item make?"

"A lot, in fact."

Chuckling to herself, she gripped his shoulder. He started at the force of her touch. "Relax. I'm not going to eat you, Carrot Man."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "How frivolous."

"You tell me. I'm not the one who tapes his fingers and carries a humongous figure wherever he goes," she said as she listened to his steady heartbeat. "Turn around and hold your breath."

When she was finished with the last player—Midorima, of course—, she yanked Takao by the collar of his shirt and granted him a noogie. "You're my favorite, so go beat them, 'kay?"

After wriggling out of her hold, he gave her a thumbs-up. He then ran to catch up with Midorima who'd ambled away as soon as she retracted the stethoscope from his back.

Sayuri caught herself still smiling as she called for the next team.

o-o

As soon as they reached the locker room, a force almost upset his still sweating form.

"Congrats!" Hasegawa said, clinging to his slippery neck like an obsessive koala to a eucalyptus tree. "You'll make it to the championships, I'm sure!"

"Sayuri, get off my player," said the coach, looking livid. Takao couldn't blame him. He was exhausted after a day of back-to-back preliminaries. The adrenaline from the latest match had already dwindled after they'd left the court, and everyone was starting to feel the drain.

"If I do, can I go in?"

Her uncle hit her on top of the head with the side of his palm and she released Takao to nurse the sore spot. "Go back to where you belong. You're no high-schooler!"

She affected a hurt expression. "But you're older than I am!"

"I'm their coach!"

"I'm their… doctor?"

Takao's face fell.

"Sayuri… do you want me to call your mother?"

Hasegawa blanched and her knees started twitching. "Uh, no. I'll meet you outside, maybe?"

The coach took out his drab-looking mobile from his pants' pocket. The college girl bristled and gave Takao a light punch in the arm before hightailing it down from there to the direction of the atrium.

Takao afforded her a laugh before going inside the locker room where the rest of the team had already disappeared into.

Half an hour and a post-game meeting later, their group dispersed and he and Midorima started for the gym's entrance. He immediately spotted her sitting on the steps, reading from a smaller, albeit still crazily thick, book on her lap.

"Hasegawa-san," he called, jogging up to see her closing the medical dictionary. "You were serious?"

"Yes," she said, dusting her pants as she got up. "I'm treating you to dinner," she said, smiling.

He reeled from the offer. "Are you sure?"

Her smile didn't falter. If anything, her face only brightened. She jerked a thumb towards Midorima. "He can come along, of course."

Takao laughed. An arm was swung around his shoulders, forcing him to hunch so she could properly reach him. Trudging up the steps, he looked back to beckon the stony-faced Midorima to follow.

"Come on, Shin-chan, I'm driving."

"You should make him drive the cart once in a while," said Hasegawa.

"He doesn't look like it but he's a poor driver when I'm not the only one sitting in the cart. Which is every day. See that Shigaraki figure? Pain, I tell you."

Hasegawa chuckled and swatted him.

They rounded the corner and found their means of transportation sitting innocently by the side gate, as though no one had thought it weird to find a bike-driven cart parked about a sports stadium. He held out a hand to help her get on and she said her thanks.

Once Midorima had sat himself, keeping as much space between them as possible by literally gluing himself to one side, the cart veered at a dangerous angle from the sheer weight of the 195-cm tall player and his Shigaraki figure. Hasegawa all but clung to her side of the cart, screaming bloody murder.

"Shin-chan, move your ass and the Shigaraki or we're not getting out of here in one piece," said Takao as he grabbed for the cart to steady it.

With a grunt, Midorima lamented and inched closer to the still shivering Hasegawa so that their arms touched, planting his two-foot Shigaraki figure by their feet. The cart immediately righted itself.

Looking at the two people who avoided each other's gaze, Takao grinned. "Aw, look at us, the chauffer and the newlyweds on their way to the raccoon-themed reception. But what's this, the bride looks unhappy!"

"Shut up," said his teammate as Hasegawa forced a laugh.

Something was off with the two of them today.

"But Shin-chan, isn't Hasegawa-san your type?" he said as he mounted the bike. "An older woman, right? She's a doctor in the making, too. Is that why you're acting shy all of a sudden?"

He received a kick in the ass while their guest nervously laughed—forced herself, more like.

"You like older girls, then? I can introduce you to some of my classmates," she said as they were finally on the road.

"Not interested." Too curt, _Shin-chan._ What was his problem, anyway?

"Shame. Some of them want to try teenage spice."

Takao felt the blood rush to his face. Sure enough, he heard the sound of Midorima's glasses being adjusted, a gesture with the purpose of hiding his blushing face. Well, sometimes. He'd often do it when he'd had enough of your stupidity or when he'd decided to crush you.

Hasegawa clearly didn't know—or deliberately chose to ignore—and kept at her taunting the whole ride to the steakhouse, and Midorima looked beyond murderous the moment they got inside.

Takao found it amusing.


	5. Potato

Hasegawa rummaged in her knapsack just as their food arrived. A few moments later, she placed a huge pile of booklets in front of them. Midorima peered at the stack, the top one reading, "College Entrance Test Reviewers".

"Isn't it in fact too early to be minding that?" he said to her as he broke apart the chopsticks and stuffed his mouth with rice.

"No," she replied, starting with her food. "They're gathering dust in my apartment so I thought I'd hand them out. I included my notes and some of the university pamphlets."

Takao inspected the pile. "Wow, this rather overwhelming."

"You think? You've got less than two years before you graduate. Better start thinking about your future right now," she said, pointing at both of them with her chopsticks. "But don't tell Uncle Masaaki, okay? He'll have my head if he finds out I'm planting non-basketball ideas in yours."

"That's in fact too long a time to worry about the future," said Midorima, trying to dismiss the subject.

Takao laughed as he chewed. Swallowing, he said, "Of course you'd say that. You're the man who listens only to the daily Oha Asa. Won't surprise me if you decide on the day of the entrance test to skip because you're number twelve."

His blood began to boil and his chopsticks shook.

Hasegawa made a ridiculous display of gaping at Takao's comment. "Seriously? That's taking it to the extremes, isn't it?"

"You haven't been around him enough, Hasegawa-san," said Takao, lightly nudging Midorima on the arm.

Surpassing Takao's meter of idiocy for today, the college girl clapped her hands. "Guess I'll just have to find out for myself, then."

What was that? Was she hinting on spending more time with them—him?

"What do you mean?" Takao asked, much to Midorima's relief.

Hasegawa gave him an innocent, confounded look. She averted her gaze and scrunched up her lips, deep in thought. "I don't know. Guess I'll just go with the flow," she finally said, smiling.

Midorima refused to puzzle about it—it did not concern him.

After their dinner, she declined the offer to bring her home.

"But don't we live in the same direction?" asked Takao.

Midorima found it impossible to feel the slightest hint of annoyance for the delay of their departure. Even if he hated to admit it, the thought of letting her go off alone this late didn't sit well with him either.

"Yes, but I've got the night shift, Takao-kun," she said, smiling.

"Hospital duty?" said Takao. "Shouldn't you just save that up for the weekdays?"

"No, work," she said, smiling. "I'm no responsible adult if I don't earn what I eat, am I?"

"But you've been volunteering the whole day!"

Hasegawa's eyes brightened at his teammate's expression of concern. "If you think I barely have time to sleep, that's not entirely true. Six hours of work, six hours of volunteering equal…?"

"But still—"

She grabbed Takao by the collar of his jacket and forced him to lean down to her level. In no time at all, she had her lips pressed on his teammate's cheek.

Midorima bristled and his mouth fell open.

"That's twelve hours of precious sleep if I'm not hanging out with friends or studying. On Saturdays," she said as she pulled away, pinching Takao's reddened cheek.

Takao's hand made its way to rest on the cheek that she had been kissing just now. His mouth opened and closed several times, and only gibberish managed to come out.

Hasegawa chortled. "Boys," she remarked, mussing his hair. She turned to Midorima and nodded before waving at them. "Goodnight, both of you."

Just like that, she turned on her heels and walked away like nothing happened.

Takao remained confounded and blushing, and Midorima all but dragged and dumped him into the cart. It was getting too late.

Surmising that the woman was insane, Midorima pedaled in the silence of the night only punctured by Takao's incoherent mumbling.

Oddly enough, he felt sorry for him.

o-o

"You look dead tired," said Takao as they met up with her the next Saturday after their advance to the finals. She was wearing her hair in a messy bun, eyes twice as heavy as he remembered.

She openly yawned at them, blinking away the tears from her eyes. "Skipping my shift tonight, actually," she said, dragging her feet between the two of them. "I think I'd like some yakiniku."

"There's a restaurant nearby," Takao said as they reached the gate where the cart was waiting for them. Again, he held out a hand for her to take and she pinched at his cheek before taking it.

Once she was sitting comfy in the cart, she turned to him with a smile, her drooping eyes glazed. "Don't you have a girlfriend, Takao-kun?"

All blood rose up his head and he was positive he was about to break into a sweating mess. "N-no."

"You want me to set you up? You have to put those gentlemanly habits to good use, you know," she said, not even noticing that Midorima was rolling his eyes as he settled into the cart beside her.

Something about the way she suggested such notion sent Takao remembering the kiss she gave him a week ago. It sent his heart beating faster than he would have liked.

"Can't take up that offer," he said, trying to shrug off the vibrations of his body. Circling the cart, he mounted the bike and started pedaling. "Besides, coach won't allow it."

She snorted. "Just because he's growing old alone doesn't mean you kids should suffer the same piteous fate," she said. "Especially you, Takao-kun. Your mother tells me she'd like lots of grandkids."

Takao blanched.

"Midorima will most likely end up an uncle, though."

The addressed harrumphed. Hasegawa was laughing.

"You know what, if you'd only smile more, girls will be throwing themselves at you," she told the green giant. "You're good-looking, good at basketball, good at school."

"I don't care about girls, in fact."

"Ah, is it because you're going out with Takao-kun?"

Takao's foot slipped from the pedal and the cart lurched forward. Midorima's scandalized utterances broke the calm of the night and Hasegawa was beside herself with glee. Turning his head to them as soon as he'd stilled the cart, she found the college girl giving his tomato-faced friend a noogie, still guffawing her head off.

Despite the look of doom he was wearing, Midorima didn't bother swatting her away. Perhaps he'd given up in shaking her off. Takao could almost hear Midorima calling her a fly.

Takao turned back to the road. Who knew, maybe Hasegawa would grant Midorima a kiss tonight just as well. She was awfully fond of him, after all.

When they were seated in a table, she finally noticed the potato Midorima was still holding.

"Today's lucky item? Why don't we roast it over the pan?" she said as the waiter went away to place their orders.

A vein visibly throbbed in his temple. "You're being ridiculous."

"What?" she said, scratching her eyebrow. "We can then split it among us. That way, you get to do something selfless today. Isn't sharing some luck a lot like loving?"

Takao started laughing as Midorima pocketed the potato, safeguarding it from the college girl's antics.

"You're stingy," she said, pouting. "By the way, congrats on making it to the finals. I expect you're playing Seirin in the championship league?"

"It looks that way," said Midorima.

Hasegawa's eyes brightened before they dimmed. "I hope nobody gets hurt."

 _That_ was a loaded sentence. The question that Takao was about to ask was cut off as their food arrived. Hasegawa all but squirmed in her seat as the beef started grilling.

"Shin-chan, don't," Takao warned, catching his teammate's chopsticks with his own. Midorima glared.

This hissed exchange didn't go by unnoticed even as Hasegawa was placing her ordered veggies and meat on the grill. "Hmm, what's wrong?"

"Shin-chan's bad at cooking."

Hasegawa looked up, cocking her head to the side. "He can't be that bad. It's just yakiniku."

"Believe me, Hasegawa-san, he really is."

Midorima adjusted his glasses and said no more.

"You poor child," said Hasegawa. "How do you like your meat?"

"Well done," Midorima replied in a clipped tone.

Nodding, Hasegawa took Midorima's order and placed them on the grill. She worked silently, alternating between hers and his. Takao watched Midorima regarding her surreptitiously through his bangs and he smiled to himself. It was a first time for somebody else had elected themselves to perform an act as simple as voluntarily making Midorima's meal. In the past, only Takao was willing to do that.

Hasegawa dumped her medium meat into her bowl before reaching over the table to take Midorima's. Unlike hers, however, she gingerly placed the well done meat into his. Takao silently wondered why that was.

"Sauce?" she asked, turning to him.

His friend cleared his throat. "As long as it turns out edible."

Smirking, Hasegawa took several bottles and poured them one by one on the meat slices, making them sizzle. When she was done, she topped them with seared vegetables.

"There you go," she said, placing the bowl in front of Midorima. "Go on, try it," she said before turning to her neglected meat.

Takao watched as Midorima lifted a meat slice to his lips, staring at it for a good five seconds before putting it inside his mouth.

If it had been any other person, they would never notice the slight twitch of his jaw. But Takao never missed his subtle reactions. Midorima liked it.

Hasegawa wasn't paying attention, busy with her own food. Takao swallowed before speaking in her behalf.

"Well, how is it, Shin-chan?" he said so that Hasegawa looked up expectantly, still chewing.

"Good, in fact."

"Is that all?"

Midorima looked at him through the corner of his eyes, an eyebrow lifted. "It's edible."

Hasegawa snorted. Fed up with his wishy-washiness, Takao grabbed a piece from Midorima's bowl and ate it. His eyes widened.

"Hasegawa-san," he said before he could swallow. "This is really good."

"Thank you," she said. "Perhaps next time I'll prepare yours instead. You're more… appreciative."

Takao slightly nudged his friend. "Shin-chan's just shy. He's a _tsundere_."

She paused to take a look at Midorima. "He definitely is." Setting down her bowl, she cupped cheek in one hand. "You know what, you really need a girlfriend. She can cook for you, too."

If it had been another girl, Takao would think she was advertising herself. But Hasegawa was merely teasing, trying to get a rise out of his perpetually stoic friend. One month of knowing her was enough to surmise that she found it entertaining to assess people by extracting reactions from them.

Thinking that, the memory of the kiss no longer affected him. Or so he wished.

He was certain that Midorima knew of her habit all the same but he was less reactive. Hasegawa got a kick out of it, for sure.

"You sound like you want to be said girlfriend, in fact," Midorima pointed out.

Takao was almost convinced that his teammate won this round but Hasegawa sniggered. "You're still a kid and you're not my type. Sorry if I gave you the wrong signal."

Midorima adjusted his specs.

On the way home, she kept quiet. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the day. But when they stopped at the gate of her apartment complex, she granted him an embrace that felt extra tight. Midorima slightly jumped when she rounded the cart to wrap her arms around his shoulders from behind. She lingered there, almost longer than necessary, before she kissed the top of his green head.

"Goodnight, boys. Good luck tomorrow," she told them, trying to put some cheer into her voice but failing miserably. The question he'd been itching to ask never came out of his lips as she disappeared behind the gate.

o-o

His heart was pounding as she continued to press her face on the back of his head. She said nothing as she nuzzled him there. He felt her lips on his hair, making no sound at all when she let go. His cheeks were now bright red, he was sure. And he barely heard her biding them goodnight.

When Takao finally snapped his fingers in front of him, Midorima was convinced he'd been cataleptic.

He was grinning from ear to ear, clearly pleased. "What's this, Shin-chan? You're blushing."

"You're imagining things."

Takao gave him a knowing look before mounting the bike again. Midorima could barely concern himself with his blushing face. Something was bothering Hasegawa and it had something to do with tomorrow's match.

They were playing against Kirisaki Daiichi.

True, their methods had been incorrigible last year, but they had seemed to change their tactics, or so he heard.

Unable to think of any reason for her odd behavior, Midorima release a small sigh and focused on cleaning his eyeglasses instead.


	6. Stretcher

 

Footsteps thundered down the hallway and Sayuri looked up from scribbling down on the day's report sheet as the door to the infirmary was thrown open. Across the threshold stood a fellow volunteer, panting.

"Hasegawa-senpai! Court two!"

The pencil lead broke as her heart sank. Court two? Could it be—?

She put down her report and snatched the first aid kit as the messenger grabbed the nearest stretcher. Four of them darted out of the room, Sayuri on the lead.

Court two. Tears stung at her eyes as the worst possible scenario played out in her head. Shuutoku High was playing Kirisaki Daiichi today. Part of her wished it wasn't what she thought to be, given the fact that the latter had been behaving well of late. But given that it was already the finals, everyone was desperate to advance.

_Right?_

They burst into the empty court—the referee called for an emergency time-out—and her eyes scanned the area for the benches. Uncle Masaaki waved them over, calm in the face of disaster. Sayuri blindly crossed the distance, nervous to see who was sprawled on the floor just outside the line.

When her eyes landed on the still form lying face down, her heart soared and the weight on her shoulders was relieved. It was neither Midorima nor Takao. It was a benchwarmer in the team shirt and jersey.

"What happened?" she said as the stretcher was laid next to her. She knelt and leaned over to take the pulse of the unconscious player, peering up at her uncle. Behind him, Midorima and Takao stood watching. At the sight of their sweating, panting forms, her heart finally started to calm down.

"Hit by the ball square on the face," said Uncle Masaaki, curt and stiff as always.

She peeled her eyes from the coach, not keen on letting him see just how distracted she was by the perfect condition her friends were in. "Nakamura-san, possible concussion. Check nose, mouth," she told one of her aides who scribbled the cryptic words.

She held out a hand. "Neck brace." After gingerly putting it on the player's neck, she called for someone else to turn his body with him. "On three," she said, supporting his neck and shoulders, turning to her fellow volunteers who held him by the middle and his legs.

"One, two, three," she said, heaving with the team as one. She lifted his head off the floor and they turned him face-up. Without letting go, she counted another three and they deposited the player on the stretcher. Blood ran from one of his nostrils and a drop managed to get caught in her sleeve.

"Bring him," she said, turning to the girl named Nakamura to take the clipboard in exchange of the first aid kit. She jerked her head in a command that she followed after the other two volunteers already rushing out with the stretcher. One of the Shuutoku players tailed them, holding out the doors.

Sayuri turned to the coach as she was scribbling her initial assessment. "No one else is hurt, Uncle?"

"No."

She clicked the mechanical pencil and eyed him, incredulous. Refusing to believe that no one else was injured, she gave the whole Shuutoku team a sweeping glance.

He was right. No one else sported any bruising. Her heart stilled.

"They're not playing shadily, Sayuri. It was pure accident."

_Accident_. She'd heard that twice before. Both times, the players were injured and needed more than simple recuperation. Gritting her teeth, she turned to the bench across from them. There he was, bushy-browed as ever, smirking at her. The rascal had the audacity to wave, sticking his tongue out at her.

Her grip on the pencil tightened and she visibly shook with rage, wishing to break—cut—something, like his tongue. Sports were shit if the referee didn't call out a foul just because they were stupid not to see it when everyone else did.

A hand descended on her shoulder and she followed the cuff of a crisp white shirt to look at her uncle's solemn, wizened face. "Go. There's a patient needing you. Everything's under control."

Suddenly, his expression from earlier made sense. He had been hoping she wouldn't be the one sent here, hadn't he?

Throwing Midorima and Takao a glance, she realized they'd been eyeing the quiet exchange with mounting curiosity. She'd have to tell them soon. _If they ask questions, that is._

Giving one final glance towards Hanamiya Makoto and his team, she nodded her head at her uncle and mouthed, "Good luck," to the teenage boys before darting out of the court.

She'd been hoping not to see him today. She'd been hoping not to see him ever _again_.

As she slowed down to take a shaky breath, however, Sayuri remembered the promise she made when she was ten, the same promise she reiterated only two years ago in this same stadium.

_I'll make everyone better._

The tears fell down her eyes as she ran the rest of the distance to the infirmary. She managed to sniff the last of her tears away before sliding the door open and rushing to the patient's side.

o-o

Takao released the ball and it landed on his hands. Midorima jumped before Hanamiya could stop him from shooting another three. As soon as the ball was on air, he adjusted his glasses, throwing the frustrated opponent a lazy look before turning around to defend with Takao against a counterattack.

Hasegawa's worried face flashed before his vision—the calm her eyes took on when she caught him standing behind the coach. It was almost the steady calm she wore that afternoon when he first met her, but he knew just by her subsequent actions that she'd been completely thrown off by the prospect that Hanamiya had managed to injure them. Knowingly.

It must be the underlying reason to her strange behavior last night.

As the ball was set to play by the opposing team, Midorima caught himself gritting his teeth. Was she really that anxious about the game that she had to behave in a manner that unnecessarily put him on edge? He didn't like the way his heart started hammering in his chest just by the mere thought of that embrace.

She'd been distant since he refused her friendship. Then out of the blue, she acted like she was going to lose a dear friend today. The upset she wore on her face was enough to tell from.

The Oha Asa announced Cancer to be fifth today. He'd secured the petroleum jelly, his lucky item. And for some reason, Hanamiya and his team had changed their tactics. The accident from earlier was just that—an accident.

Midorima received the pass from Miyaji and dribbled past Hanamiya, passing to Takao.

He should be focusing on the game, not some dramatic college girl.

o-o

When she heard of the outcome of the game, Sayuri excused herself from the infirmary and headed out to the empty hallway. Fishing her phone out of her pocket, she looked at the time. It was almost six in the evening. Doing the math in her head, her shoulders slumped as she realized it must be around three in the morning in that part of the globe.

Shrugging, she logged in on the chatroom and typed out a private message. Reading it over once, she clicked on _Send_ and flipped her phone shut.

A smile tugged at her lips and she let gravity take over, sitting in a dark corner of the hallway. Shuutoku won the game today. No one else had to be admitted to the infirmary, much like from the other days since the preliminaries. The heavy feeling that accompanied the adrenaline rush from the emergency earlier started to dwindle, but even she couldn't believe that Hanamiya Makoto had indeed lost because he decided against breaking his opponents this year.

If there was anything she learned from volunteering in sports events, it was that one match could change the course of a career for better or for worse. Hanamiya's loss was, if viewed positively, more of a victory, albeit a personal one for him. Not the sort that he would ever admit it to anyone else.

Tears pricked at her eyes as memories of two years ago flashed before them. Last winter she saw the bend down the road, and now she witnessed the results. Oddly enough, her chest felt lighter even as she was thinking of the dishonest player preceded by many more of his caliber.

Her silent musing was punctured by a vibration. She slightly jumped before she realized that it was the phone she'd deposited on the floor. Her eyebrows knitted when she read the caller ID but she grabbed the device excitedly anyway.

"Onii-san," she spoke to the receiver, chiding the man on the other line. "Why are you still up?"

His baritone laughter echoed through the earpiece. "I made sure to set the alarm when the game ends. You have news, you said?"

Biting her lip, she let the tears fall down either cheek. "He lost tonight, onii-san. He lost and he didn't do anything stupid."

Momentary silence met Sayuri and she drew out a shaky breath to calm down. The reason as to why the tears were coming this fast eluded her. Was it because Shuutoku was safe? Because Hanamiya didn't play dirty? Or was it because she was wishing this change wasn't two years late?

Kiyoshi released a nervous laugh from his end, perhaps sensing her weeping session. "Is that so? Shouldn't you be happy? He's changed for the better, hasn't he?"

"I _am_ happy, silly," she told him in an admonishing tone. "But you know why I'm not _that_ happy."

"Mm-hmm, I see," he mumbled. Just when she thought he was going to say something profound as he now understood how she felt, he came up with, "You know what, I have no idea what to say to that, Sayuri-san."

She managed to chuckle as she wiped away her tears. "That's because you're perpetually a wool-gatherer, onii-san."

"You think?" he said, as clueless as ever.

Sayuri only shook her head. Oftentimes, she couldn't tell if his absentmindedness was inherent or if it was his way of diffusing tension. "Hey, I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Sayuri-san."

"If Alex harasses you, tell me, okay? I'll fly and give her a beating pronto."

Kiyoshi laughed. "I'll remind her so she doesn't."

"I know it's late. Go back to sleep, old man. I know you're tired."

"Goodnight, Sayuri-san."

o-o

Takao's head bumped him square between his shoulder blades as he paused from walking towards the infirmary with the team and the coach. Adjusting his glasses, he caught a clearer glimpse of a head not quite poking but hanging out from a corner down the hallway.

With her constant presence, he would recognize the messy bun anywhere.

"Shin-chan, what is it?" said Takao, craning his head from behind Midorima to see.

The rest of the team had already gone inside. Deeming it safe to expose the college girl apparently asleep in a random corner—that no one else but Takao would tease him about showing the least concern—, he lifted a hand to point but Takao had already deduced who it was and was padding towards her. Midorima silently followed.

His teammate's face contorted with amusement as he stared at the sleeping Hasegawa. He crouched in front of her, a smile already playing on his lips. Upon closer inspection, he realized she had plopped herself rather unceremoniously on the ground, head propped against one knee, the other leg folded at an awkward angle beneath her as she slept away.

Takao stifled a laugh as her head started slipping from her knee. It bobbed up and down before resettling, and he was positive he heard her snoring softly.

"Should we wake her?" asked Takao in a whisper.

Midorima only shrugged. His teammate lifted a finger to poke at her head. She grunted, swatting his arm like some fly. Takao poked her again. This time, she mumbled incoherent obscenities. When Takao tried a third time, a hand shot out and hit him square in the face, toppling him over.

"What rascal disturbs my sleep?" she yelled, finally opening her eyes to glare at thin air. When she realized no one was in front of her, she traced the shadow that had fallen over the corner she'd monopolized, blocking out the light from the hallway.

Her bloodshot eyes widened when they landed on him. "Midorima?"

He adjusted his glasses. "Takao was trying to wake you up," he said, moving his eyes to the ground.

Hasegawa all but jumped when she saw the player she knocked out. "Oh shit," she muttered, springing up from her position to lean over Takao. "Takao-kun, I'm sorry."

She gently patted him on the cheek, apologizing over and over. Not too long after, Takao started stirring and he groaned, reaching for his nose.

"Oh, Takao-kun, I'm really sorry. I didn't know it was you," Hasegawa said as Takao opened his eyes and struggled to sit. She lent him a hand, holding his face to inspect for damage.

"Jeez, Hasegawa-san, I didn't know you had a violent streak," Takao muttered as Hasegawa reached out a hand to pat lightly at his nose for examination.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I fell asleep," she said, releasing her hold of his face. "You'll be fine," she said in assessment.

Takao stretched his facial muscles. "Yeah, well, that wasn't really a punch. You took me aback is all," he said, teasing.

Hasegawa punched him in the arm instead. "Say that again and I'll land a true punch in your gut."

Takao laughed and stood, helping her up. "Do you make a habit out of sleeping in random places?"

She smiled at him, glancing towards Midorima before answering. "It happens all the time whenever I'm on duty. You just have to catch some zzz's whenever you can, you know."

"It must be really difficult to be a medical worker," said Takao as they ventured into the infirmary. "I hope Shin-chan survives all that."

Hasegawa turned to Midorima again, cracking him a small smile. "I think he can handle it. He's more than he lets on anyway." As she said this, she started yawning. It effectively cut off any hint of seriousness she intended to inject into her statement.

Takao only smirked, watching her as she rubbed her eyes. Midorima thought he saw his friend's eyes twinkling.

His stomach was in knots upon realizing that.

"Uncle," said Hasegawa as they neared the bed where the rest of the team had huddled about the first year still fast asleep. "Congrats. No one else is hurt?"

The coach shook his head, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her back out again of the infirmary. Takao looked at Midorima, a question in his eyes. Midorima only afforded a shrug.

When they came back, Hasegawa's eyes and nose were bright red and the coach avoided catching their gazes. Heated words must have been exchanged between the two. In the back of his mind, he was convinced it had something to do with the instance Hasegawa almost lost her nerve in the court. The coach had probably admonished her.

He found it irksome that he bothered being curious about it.

The coach herded the team out once the first year was awake and given permission to leave. He and Takao lingered, until the latter huffed and marched towards the college girl sitting on the reception table with a blank look on her face.

He followed to hear Takao inviting her to dinner. After snapping out of her trance, she nodded her head and said goodbye to the other volunteers. The trek to the cart was rather quiet, until she froze abruptly as they were descending the flight of steps leading to the gate.

A shrouded figure materialized from the ledge and he cocked his head, waving a hand out to her.

Before Midorima could associate the antagonistic face with a name, Hasegawa was sprinting and tackling Hanamiya Makoto to the ground.

 


	7. Tangerine

 "You're so full of _shit_!" she hissed at him, drumming her fists on his chest without really putting force into it. She liked to think she could break him just as he did her every time, but the resolve to do that never actually consumed her.

She hated to see people breaking and she hated him the most.

The moment her tears fell on his smirking face, however, he forced her off of him so that she slipped down from his stomach and on the ground. He pushed himself up, throwing her a disgusted look.

"Stop crying, Sayu-nee," he said with a note of vexation in his voice as he wiped the tears off his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

This only induced her tear ducts to leak more, and Hanamiya threw her a tired look. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he flicked her forehead. A string of obscenities tumbled out of her mouth following the shot of pain, and promptly she abandoned crying to pin the young man down with a glare.

He chuckled his dark chuckle. "Heh, I knew you that'll shut you up."

"Aren't you going to say you're sorry?" she said, clumsily wiping her face with her sleeve.

"For breaking Iron Heart and not breaking _them_?" he said, jerking his head. She followed its trajectory, belatedly realizing that Midorima and Takao were still standing where she left them, wearing curious faces.

Her heart sank. They weren't supposed to hear this. Especially after Uncle Masaaki reminded her to stop watching out for everyone.

"You know what I mean, Makoto," she told Hanamiya. "You're two years late."

He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out. "Stupid. You should be grateful."

"I _am_ grateful," she said, her voice rising. "But I wish—"

"Look, if you're going to get all hung up about Iron Heart and the hundreds of players I broke before, then I'm not hearing any more shit out of your mouth," he said, hastily standing up.

Her heart wrenched as he turned on his heel. His retreating figure was enough to spur her into action, springing up from the ground to step in front of him and throw her arms around his neck.

"Sorry, Makoto," she said to his ear, forcing him down to her height. "I meant to say thank you."

His hand settled on the low of her back, awkwardly patting her there. She could imagine him making a face. "Tch, you're so silly, Sayu-nee."

"Thank you, okay? I still regret I wasn't able to stop you before but I guess I can't save everyone all the time. Sorry I failed you."

"You're a doctor, not a superhero. So shut it," he mumbled despondently.

She nodded her head. At that moment, she felt something inside of her turn and become lighter. It was all she needed to hear from him.

He stopped her when she was about to lean away.

"And…" he said to her ear in a very quiet tone. "It was my choice to shut you out. Sorry."

Her heart drummed painfully in her chest as he pulled away. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes again. He flicked her forehead once more, sticking his tongue out at her for the umpteenth time since she'd met him.

"What's that Sayu-nee? Did you honestly think I'd say that? I-d-i-o-t," he said, mussing her hair with the enthusiasm of a sadist. Before she could retaliate, he turned his back on her and disappeared into the shadows.

Sayuri was left to wonder if he meant _any_ of it.

He must have. Hanamiya liked to yank everyone's chain, saying things that sounded sincere before coming up with a cutting remark to dismiss them. But this time, in her heart, she knew he was being honest. He was completely shy about it, of course.

A smile played on her lips as she gathered her fallen knapsack and beckoned for Midorima and Takao to follow. Her stomach growled, and it effectively punctured through the awkward silence as they trudged up the cart.

She was thankful they didn't ask questions. Sayuri smiled to herself. Teenage boys were really cute.

o-o

"You're having your proficiency tests this week, aren't you?" she said on their way home, sitting next to him as per usual.

"How is it that you know?" said Midorima, looking at her through narrowed eyes.

"Don't be silly. I was once a high-schooler," she said, scrunching her lips to affect upset. Midorima was not impressed. "Anyway, you can't play in the championships if you're on the bottom hundred, right? At least that's how I remember it from six years ago."

Takao paused at a red light and turned his head to them. "Does Hasegawa-san happen to be from Shuutoku?" he asked in his excited tone.

Hasegawa started, hand flying to scratch at her cheek. "Huh? I didn't tell you?"

Takao's jaw fell in surprise. "So you are?"

Even Midorima couldn't believe it. She studied at Todai, after all. He at least expected her to have attended a public high school.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "I was also the basketball team's manager."

This news didn't shock Midorima. She seemed the type, anyway. Somehow the image of her in their black uniform, attending to the players, managed to slither into his thoughts. His cheeks burned.

Gulping silently, he stared ahead as Takao began pedaling again.

"That being said, I was in charge of making sure the players didn't flunk their proficiency tests," she continued with her story. "Aside from banning them from playing for the championships, Uncle Masaaki made it a point to threaten my position if I so much as slacked off," she finished with a chuckle.

"Why did the coach have to do that, in fact?" asked Midorima, staring off into the night.

"I was the one who insisted that he made me manager when I entered Shuutoku," she replied with a wistful sigh. "He didn't hire a new one for a long time after I left. Or so I heard. He must've had enough of impish managers."

Takao started laughing and even Midorima had to gulp down the snort about to escape him after that self-deprecating remark.

"Anyway, we're digressing. How are your midterms?" she said, turning to Midorima.

Midorima gave her a sidelong glance. "There's no merit in asking me. Ask Takao instead."

"Shin-chan, that's so harsh," Takao whined.

"Is he a genius?" asked Hasegawa.

"Smartly superstitious, more like."

Hasegawa furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't understand."

"Shin-chan, why don't you show her?"

With a grunt, Midorima reached for his bag and unzipped it, pulling out the pencil case containing his specially-made rolling pencil. He dropped it on her palm.

As soon as she'd turned the brown pencil about, reading the letters and numbers he'd etched on near the end where an eraser was supposed to be, Hasegawa burst out laughing. She threw her head back, clutching at her stomach as she gasped for breath.

Her loud, roaring laughter rang through the night, and their group was gathering disproving looks from pedestrians. In an attempt to salvage whatever was left of his pride, Midorima reached out to clamp his bandaged fingers over her lips and she froze, a gasp grazing his palm.

She turned to him with wide eyes, and the warmth that visibly spread across her cheeks was felt by his skin. When he was sure she got the message, he let go and turned away, adjusting his eyeglasses to distract from the image of her in his periphery, gaping and blushing so blithely.

Another red light and Takao took the chance to twist about, curious as to why the college girl was suddenly silenced.

"What's wrong with you two?" he asked, noticing that they had turned silent, unable to look at each other.

"Nothing. Keep pedaling."

"Stupid, the light's red," said Takao.

Hasegawa cleared her throat and released a sigh. "I get the picture," she said. "But tossing a pencil around won't be a guarantee that you get to play."

Offended, Midorima bit back, "That's in fact what I etched on the pencil: 'Man proposes, God disposes.'"

"The second verse is truer, though. I didn't study for the proficiency tests last year and borrowed the pencil. I passed with flying colors. No sweat."

"You didn't borrow it. You, in fact, stole it, moron," said Midorima, still embittered by that one chance Takao scored higher in the tests than he did.

Hasegawa chuckled stiffly, still shaken. "What's this? You both sound like a pencil will save you in every test. How silly."

"I didn't say that," said Midorima in his defense.

"Yes, but you're pretty upset he took your prized possession away," she pointed out, drawling the words out. "Did he manage to beat you in the exams?"

"I did," said Takao with a chortle. "Shin-chan's got magical powers. He passed them down on the pencil when he made it, I'm telling you."

The college girl only shifted in her seat, crossing her arms on her chest. "It was pure coincidence that the pencil happened to have provided the right answers. Besides, going by probability, you can't really flunk a multiple-choice test if you have a twenty-five-percent chance of getting the correct answers."

Midorima was starting to think she was actively antagonizing him.

"And there's also a seventy-five-percent chance that you'd get the wrong answers this time, Takao-kun," she said, taking on a serious note. "As I have a lot of time in my hands until the championships next Saturday, I'm proposing that we conduct a cramming session for the tests. I'm hosting."

"Don't you have to go to school? How about hospital duty?" said Midorima in an attempt to shot down the proposition.

"Oh, I'm free on Wednesdays and Thursdays. And I have a few remaining hours left for duty. I'm going to finish before summer break."

"I won't be going," said Midorima with finality.

"But Shin-chan, Hasegawa-san is a really good teacher," Takao said.

"He can use some help from you, too," she added, smiling at Midorima. "And I'm cooking."

He was no Murasakibara. No amount of food-bribing would make him go. He didn't need anyone tutoring him. He was fine on his own and he would make sure Takao would not so much as lay his hands on his pencil—

His eyes widened when he followed her arm that she had outstretched, dangling the pencil between her thumb and forefinger.

Midorima's mind raced—it was the only such pencil left in his possession after he gave the other one to Kuroko and his former teammates. Precariously balanced between her fingers, Midorima could imagine it falling onto the concrete and being run over by other vehicles.

He was fifth according to today's horoscope. While he'd secured his lucky item, he wasn't sure if he would survive jumping out of the cart if Hasegawa indeed let go.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, smiling devilishly. "So, what is it, Midorima?" She let the pencil slip until she was holding it by its tip.

Midorima inwardly cringed. She got the upper hand this time. "Fine. Just don't drop the pencil," he said, injecting as much calm into his voice as he could muster.

Takao started laughing again as Hasegawa relented and pulled her arm back into the cart. Midorima held out his hand, palm up, expecting the pencil.

She kept her eyebrow raised. "No, I'm going to keep this pencil until the morning of your tests," she said, stuffing it inside the pocket of her knapsack.

It soon became obvious that Midorima wouldn't win this round tonight as they were nearing her apartment complex. She got off the cart as soon as they pulled up, patting each of them on the head.

"See you tomorrow after school," she said, grinning at them. She opened the gate and slinked through it.

Midorima only glared after her retreating figure.

"She got you, Shin-chan," Takao said, laughing. Midorima kicked him on his backside.

When he arrived home and was safely in his room, a hint of tangerine reached his nostrils as he was adjusting his eyeglasses. Retracting his left hand, he saw the pale orange outline of a pair of lips that had splotched on the bandage he wrapped his fingers with, glimmering under the dim light.

His heart hammered against his ribcage upon remembering the warmth of the lips his fingers had been pressed against not too long ago. An image of her smiling lips flashed before his eyes.

He realized his cheeks were burning and he huffed, proceeding to the bathroom, eager to take off the bandage and take a shower.

Once he was dressed, he descended the stairs to head to his father's study on the first floor. He lifted the brass handle of the knocker and announced his presence.

"Shintarou, your father won't be coming home tonight," said a voice from behind him. He turned around to face his mother, her dark, long locks framing her face. "What is it?"

He padded towards the living room with her, spotting the Erika-shaped form already sound asleep on the sofa. Glancing at the clock, he realized it was almost nine in the evening.

He sat himself next to the sleeping child, patting her head with his right hand. He turned to his mother who occupied the space next to him, her eyes trained on the flat-screen television, the largest one in the house.

"Do you remember the woman who took me and Takao to the hospital?" he began, avoiding her gaze as soon as he said it. He had his sentences mixed up. There was no need to introduce Hasegawa. He could've simply said that he would be having a study session with Takao in preparation for the proficiency tests. Somehow, however, he deemed it necessary to avoid vagueness in front of his mother.

"I do," said his mother in a tone that was neither curt nor disinterested. If anything, she was able to coax him into speaking further.

"She turned out to be, in fact, a medical student volunteering for the Inter High. She's also the coach's niece. To make the long story short, we've become fairly acquainted and she wishes to tutor me and Takao for the upcoming proficiency tests."

He finished with an adjustment of his eyeglasses. Even with the fresh bandages, he could practically catch a whiff of her tangerine-flavored lip balm. He fought down a blush.

"You're pulling an all-nighter with her, then?" his mother said, clarifying.

"Until the day of the tests, in fact."

"Aren't you fine on your own?" his mother asked.

"I am, but she insists," he said, lying. She _blackmailed_ him into submission. He would have told his mother just to spite the college girl, but it wouldn't help matters. "Takao also wants me to come."

His mother hummed under her breath. "You said the coach is her uncle?"

He nodded.

"Hmm, I think it would be fine. It's actually very generous of her to offer," she said, smiling when he raised his gaze towards her. Then, as though realizing something, she narrowed her eyes. "She's not asking for any compensation, is she?"

"No, mother." From what he knew of her, she was not one to hand out favors asking for anything in return. He established as much from her nature. And even though he sometimes doubted her intentions, he just couldn't come up with anything that would gain her leverage from all that she'd done for him and Takao thus far.

If anything, it was he and Takao who benefited from her.

His mother nodded. "Make sure to ask for her mobile number and send it to me first thing when you meet up with her tomorrow, you understand?" she said, lips pursed.

Takao would never let him live this one down. "Yes, mother."

"Oh, I remember. You came home with review materials some nights ago. Were those from her as well?"

"Yes," Midorima answered shortly.

His mother's smile only widened. "She's an interesting character, I see."

 _Interesting_ was oversimplifying it. She was crazy and obnoxious despite her calm stance in everything.

"It's nice to have gained her acquaintance. You're planning to go to medicine after high school, aren't you?"

"I guess."

His mother patted his head. "I'm glad you're surrounded with the right kind of people," she said, looking up to check the grandfather clock by the staircase. "Ah, look at the time. Let me tuck Erika in bed."

"Let me help," Midorima said, carrying the seven-year-old in his arms. She mumbled incoherent nothings when he moved to ascend the stairs. His mother gave him a grateful smile before she turned off the television and ambled next to him.

She opened the door to his sister's room and he went inside, the pink wallpaper making him slightly reel. Even though it was the soft pink of Momoi's hair, it was still _pink_. He hated pink the way he hated Akashi being unbeatable.

Nevertheless, he deposited his sister on her four-poster, letting his mother fix the _pink_ blankets. He turned on the lamp, and once she had kissed the small girl goodnight, his mother switched off the lights and closed the door behind her.

"Congratulations on winning today," his mother said, tiptoeing to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Don't stay up too late. Goodnight, Shintarou."

"Goodnight."

 

 


	8. Score

 

Takao was skipping as he pushed the gate open and admitted the two of them into the lobby of the apartment complex. Midorima checked for her unit number from the mailbox and they made their way to the elevators.

She slid open the door as soon as the doorbell was rung, smiling up at them. Midorima caught a whiff of something cooking—seared meat and vegetables . At least she had the perfect sense of serving teenagers with nutritive meals.

"Hello! Glad you made it," she said, ushering them inside.

For a student, her apartment was quite spacious, almost the same as Kagami's. Leaving their shoes by the rug, Midorima stepped on the well-polished floor of the hallway. Takao tailed Hasegawa who disappeared into the first door to the left and Midorima followed, trying his best to stay surreptitious in inspecting the living room.

Again, it was just as neat as the hallway. Bookshelves lining up an entire wall, a large coffee table on the center and a couch. A few picture frames and a flower pot by the cream-curtained glass window gave it a homey feel.

"You play games?" said Takao, spotting the console by the television set.

"Yes," she said, setting their bags by the coffee table. "I should be finished with dinner soon. You can set up the console or watch TV while you wait. We'll start studying after we've eaten."

With that, she proceeded to the kitchen separated from the living room by a counter. Takao eagerly took over the console and was soon dragging Midorima to sit in front of the television set with him. To play NBA basketball.

Midorima could only roll his eyes. But he didn't protest.

It took half an hour—and several losses on Takao's end—before she announced that dinner was ready and Takao let Midorima tidy up, volunteering to help Hasegawa prepare the table.

Once everything was set, they said their graces and dug in. While Takao was happily chatting with their hostess, Midorima fished his phone out of his pocket and laid it next to her.

"Hmm?" she said, still chewing. She turned her eyes on him and set her bowl down.

"My mother asked to get your number."

Takao all but choked in his laughter and Midorima glared as his cheeks burned. Hasegawa only beamed.

"But I've already saved it," she said, picking it up and handing it back to him.

Midorima opened his mouth to ask but a memory of her holding up the phone in the ambulance was all he needed to know the answer. Even though it was just like her, it still surprised him.

The phone was warm after she had touched it for only so short a time, unsettling Midorima for a fraction of a second. He pocketed his phone once more and fixed his eyeglasses. "You're very thorough, in fact," he said with a hint of annoyance. She was _too_ thorough.

Grinning, she fished out her own phone and forced it into his hand. "At least give me yours. Takao-kun's, too."

Midorima sighed and typed in his number. Takao took the phone without having to tell him and handed it back to the college student with a huge grin on his face before giving his own phone.

"That definitely makes it easier to pester both of you," said Hasegawa after they had finished swapping digits.

"I look forward to it," said Midorima, voice dripping with sarcasm. Hasegawa only laughed.

When they finished dinner, she shooed him and Takao into the kitchen to wash the dishes while she tidied up the table and put away the leftovers. He silently cursed the chore, as he would have to replace his bandage afterwards. Takao teased him about it and Hasegawa only smirked, as though both of them experienced so much pleasure in getting him all riled up.

Two hours into the tutoring, Midorima was convinced that indeed, Hasegawa was a good teacher. He wasn't the type to rely on others—at least except in basketball—but he acknowledged her capabilities. Highly effective in fact that he was beginning to think that she was an education major, not a doctor in the making.

But even the most effective of teachers could only hold the attention of all their students for so long. At eleven-thirty, when they had finished two subjects, Takao was already whining.

"Boring, bland biology, complicated, cursed chemistry," he said, dropping his head on his arms.

Hasegawa rubbed at her eye and put on a frown. "If it'd been another day, I would've commended you for the excellent alliterations but I take offense in that," she said, reaching over to pinch the shell of Takao's ear. "Don't. Insult. Biology. And. Chemistry. In. Front. Of. Me."

Suffice it to say that Midorima was surprised by this interesting development.

Takao writhed from her painful tugging, and his head was lifted off the table. "Jeez, Hasegawa-san, I get it." When she let go and fixed the locks of hair that had already escaped from the bun atop her head, Takao added, "Shin-chan loves bio and chem but he doesn't hurt me when I complain."

Hasegawa paused to shoot Midorima a look. He averted his gaze.

"Well, I'm no Shin-chan so shut it," she said, fixing Takao with a glare.

Slightly thankful that she wasn't turned to him when she said his nickname in a flippant manner, Midorima let out a quiet puff of breath to calm his suddenly racing heart.

She stood from the coffee table and pulled at the hem of her shorts that had ridden further up her thighs, padding towards the bookshelves. She pulled out a clear file folder and went back to sit in front of them, flipping through the papers.

"I still have the test questions from way back. I'd be boiling the ocean if I claim they'll turn up in the exams but I guess there's no harm in practicing with them," she said as she laid on the table a sheaf of papers with the school's emblem on top. The edges were starting to yellow, and from the smell, Midorima could definitely tell that they _were_ old.

Hasegawa shuffled through them, making it a point not to reveal the corrected answer sheets beneath the questionnaires. It was a futile attempt, as Midorima could practically see the impressed, red-inked check marks and circles, including her mirrored scores through the back of the crisp papers. And as he looked, he grew more anxious. She had higher marks than he ever had—ninety-nine, ninety-eight… ninety-five. Not one lower than ninety-five. And a hundred, once, twice, or thrice?

Pride wounded, he pried his eyes off the papers she was sorting and turned to stare at the blank wall. She was a monster who could rival Akashi. He sniffed.

"Okay, which one would you like first? Bio or chem?"

"Whichever," said Midorima, not turning to her who was peering up at him.

Takao harrumphed. "Same goes for me."

"Let's go with biology then," she said, taking the questionnaire and hiding the answer sheet behind her. "I read the question and you tell me the answer."

"That's no good," said Midorima before she could open her mouth to read the first question.

Eyebrows high on her forehead, she asked, "Oh, would you rather write your answers, then?"

Midorima shook his head, jerking a thumb towards Takao. "He has the Hawk Eyes. He can see the answer sheet even from behind you, in fact."

The shock registered on her face immediately and Hasegawa fumbled to drag the answer sheet across the floor and sit on it instead, affronted.

Takao was grinning. "You scored a hundred in bio back then, Hasegawa-san? Do you always rank first?"

Hearing this only shattered Midorima's pride into a million tiny pieces. He never got past one mistake and he never ranked first—even in his favorite subjects. It was always Akashi in middle school and the student from the other class who had his nose buried in books wherever he went in high school.

Hasegawa, instead of being bashful at least, looked denigrated. "I'm going to crush you to bits, Takao-kun. I was being careful, you know."

"What use is there in hiding your score? I'm not as competitive as Shin-chan."

She shot him another look before letting out a big sigh. "Not that. I was hoping not to pressure either of you. The championship league is already a stronger pressure in and of itself," she said, cradling her head in her hand.

"Besides," she continued, massaging her temple. "I get teased a lot for being too smart—their words, not mine. Lots of haters and fake friends that come with that. It feels terrible, almost suffocating."

Her tone had taken on a different hint of sadness and the air about them had become uncomfortable. For some reason, Midorima felt her statements were more loaded than she made them out to be. But he wasn't eager to hear more. Coming here was for the sole purpose of cramming for the tests, not to share sentiments on being overachievers, even if he related to her to a degree.

In the sense that he did the hating—mostly on Akashi, that is.

Midorima rolled his eyes at himself. He should stop thinking about that person.

"It's not like I'm doing it to prove myself. I just love learning a lot," she said, puncturing the statement with a shrug. "I'm sure you understand. You love basketball."

Midorima inwardly cringed. He loved basketball. He practiced every day to get better at it. In order to beat the opponents. Not just _because_.

He silently wondered if that was the reason he never entered the Zone.

Hasegawa puffed up her cheeks and sighed for the umpteenth time. "Say, why don't we take a thirty-minute break? I'm going to prepare some hot chocolate and we can play a game or two."

Takao mumbled an apology, perhaps for putting her on the spot, and she only patted him on the head, ruffling his hair. She went straight to the kitchen after returning the old test papers in the folder and left them to set up the console.

While she was fixing their midnight snack, the doorbell rang—a high, shrill sound cutting across the quiet. Takao all but jumped into his lap from sheer fright and Midorima turned to Hasegawa who craned her neck over the counter to peer at them.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Midorima asked.

"At midnight?" Takao added, still aquiver in his lap. Midorima didn't bother throwing him off him.

"No," Hasegawa replied, eyebrows furrowed. She wiped her hands dry with a dish towel and made her way to the hallway, her footsteps echoing through the dead silence that seemed to have enveloped the whole apartment.

Takao made no move to get off his lap and Midorima resigned himself to the fate of an unwilling guardian.

Hasegawa's footsteps stopped and a moment later the sliding of the front door reverberated through the whole apartment before a chorus of, "Sayu!" pierced through the tense air. A grunt of someone being tackled echoed through the hallway—flesh and fabric on wood.

Upon registering the voices, Midorima shoved Takao off him, fixing his eyeglasses. They had already righted themselves as the Yoshioka twins paraded into the living room, Hasegawa hot on their heels with a frown on her face.

The twins recoiled when they spotted the two teenage boys sitting in front of the television set.

"Hello," said Takao, already recovered from the shock of the doorbell.

"Sayu—" said Supportive Yoshioka. Midorima didn't bother hiding his dislike and rolled his eyes.

"—what are you doing—"

"—playing house with teenage boys—"

"—all night long?"

Exasperated, Hasegawa hit them upside the head before walking the rest of the way to the kitchen. "We're cramming for their proficiency tests. What did you come here for, anyway? At this hour?"

Midorima and Takao tuned the ladies out and started another game instead. When Hasegawa finally finished with the snacks, she didn't sit with them on the floor and played as she promised. Instead, she was chatting away with the twins, giggling and laughing.

The overly feminine, progesterone-heavy sounds set his teeth on edge, even with the game music turned on.

When it hit midnight, the talking died down. Midorima and Takao turned the console off and the twins laid their droopy eyes on them.

"Hey, you," said Upset Yoshioka, pointing a finger at both of them, a hand on her hip. "Don't you dare do anything to our Sayu."

"Or we're going to rip your balls off and present them to her uncle," finished Supportive Yoshioka.

Hasegawa only covered her face with a hand, frustrated. Midorima was unfazed. Takao affected a panicked look to humor the ladies.

"Sayu, we're going to bed."

"Scream bloody murder if you need help beating them up."

The hostess rolled her eyes and shoved them to the direction of the hallway. "Thank you for letting us crash, Sayu," she said, making her voice smaller to imitate one of the twins. Once they were out the door, Hasegawa returned to her normal speaking voice and said, "Oh, you're welcome, losers. Goodnight."

The twins waved at her before disappearing further up the hallway. Hasegawa turned back to Midorima and Takao, fighting down a smile and trying her best to look glum. She was failing.

"Do they usually do that?" Takao asked as he brought the mugs and platters to the sink to wash.

"Randomly crashing? Yes. I just didn't expect them tonight," she replied, sinking into her spot in front of Midorima.

"That's why it's random, in fact," Midorima pointed out, reading his notes to appear nonchalant. He didn't even have to say it—she must have realized the error in her statement herself and there was no merit in pointing out something useless—, but he felt like keeping up with the conversation. Odd.

Hasegawa chortled. "Right."


	9. Coffee

 

Lack of sleep was inevitable with the amount of information they had to master in two nights. For Midorima, it was unnecessary torture. Takao, being less academically-inclined, was more obligated to pull an all-nighter.

The trouble was almost acceptable, if not for the fact that his teammate had already dozed off on the couch, claiming to take a power nap that he hadn't woken from in two hours. While he silently wished to receive the same privilege, Hasegawa, droopy-eyed but still alert, didn't look too eager to let him have even a wink of rest tonight.

Besides, even if he didn't openly admit it, he was now more determined to rank first in the exams. And so Hasegawa continued asking questions off the practice materials and he gave curt answers.

At long last, when they finished with social sciences, she stretched and cracked her neck, turning to him with glazed eyes.

"We covered three out of five subjects tonight. I think I can let you sleep," she said, crawling on all fours as she cursed her legs that had fallen asleep. "I'll just get a sleeping bag."

"I don't think it's wise, in fact," he said, turning back to his notes. "If I sleep now, I would be late for class."

It was almost three in the morning. School was five hours away, and he wasn't going to risk oversleeping.

Hasegawa was silent for a while and, wondering what it was, he looked up from his reading to see her still stretching her limbs on the floor, a small smile on her face.

"Aren't you tired?" she said, moving her legs on and off the floor.

"I am," he said, adjusting his eyeglasses.

Humming to herself, she scrambled off the floor and stood, hopping in place to wake herself even more. "Suit yourself, then," she said, padding towards the counter to take her purse. "I'm running to the convenience store to buy some ingredients for breakfast. Don't answer the door while I'm out, okay?"

Midorima turned to the windows. It was still dark outside. He turned back to her and regarded her indoor clothes. A sweatshirt and shorts falling half a foot above her knees. He sighed before peeling himself off the floor.

"I'll come with you. A stretch is in order," he said, taking the jacket he placed in his bag to distract from the surprised look on her face.

Hasegawa grinned at him and they ventured out. The cold morning air greeted them as soon as she wrenched the door open, and she shoved her hands into the front pocket of her sweatshirt after locking up.

The silence on the way to the store was almost deafening, but Midorima couldn't come up with any subject for conversation. He was thankful when she spoke first as they were rounding the corner, the streetlamps their only guide through their trek.

"Do you drink coffee?" she said, her eyes staring straight on. Midorima noticed only now that she stood almost but not quite reaching his shoulders. With the two feet between them, he didn't have to look down to see her.

He threw her a sidelong glance. "I don't. I like the red bean drink." He wasn't sure why he added the last bit, but he didn't regret having said it.

She turned to him. "Ah, so you're not a coffee person," she said, nodding to herself at her conclusion. "We can buy that drink from the store."

He only adjusted his eyeglasses, bereft of anything else to say. The fact didn't sit well with him and he briefly wondered why he felt so obligated to continue talking to her.

Perhaps it was to be more grateful of her help? Even if he didn't need it?

But in a way, he _needed_ it.

"I have a question," he said. In fact, he didn't.

She raised her eyes to meet his and he desperately wracked his brain for something to prevent embarrassment.

"When did you realize you wanted to become a doctor?" he said. It was the first question off the top of his head, and upon mulling it over as soon as it had tumbled out his mouth, he fathomed that it was one that he'd been unconsciously _curious_ to find an answer for.

Hasegawa seemed taken aback by the harmless inquiry. Midorima hadn't a clue why; he thought it was one of the standard questions to ask an acquaintance—to ask about their careers.

She pursed her lips and returned her gaze on the street. "I was in eighth grade," she replied. There was an inflection at the end of the sentence that gave off the impression that she meant to say more. But she didn't. Instead, she turned to him and spoke a similar question. "When did you realize you wanted to study medicine?"

He was more surprised by her hesitation than by the question. There was nothing else he could say as an answer anyway. "It's not so much as I want to. It's more of a convenience."

"Like an alternative? Just because you can take it?"

He nodded his head. "Being a professional basketball player was never a smart choice, anyway."

"But you realize you can do both? I'm pretty sure Todai would be glad to have you."

"Either would get in the way of the other."

"Then neither is an alternative," Hasegawa said, smiling up at him like she had claimed victory. "When you put it that way, it means one matters to you as much as the other does."

Midorima's mouth fell open a fraction. He wasn't ready for such a revelation.

It had already become much brighter as they were walking down the main street, pausing at a crosswalk and waiting for their turn to continue down the road. Up ahead, he could already see the store, a quaint, brightly-lit structure in a street corner.

"Maybe you honestly, deeply want to be a doctor as much as you love playing basketball," she said, reaching out a hand to clap him on the back. "The reason isn't that clear yet but sometimes it's much better that way."

"What do you mean?"

She scratched her chin. "It's like loving something… conditionally. Like, you have a reason you _love_ this or that," she said, air-quoting the word. "And when you lose sight of that reason, you lose that _love._ And then you realize that maybe it's not even _love_. Maybe it's merely _like_ or... _infatuation_. Which is why it's sometimes better to be doing something you love just because."

All the while she talked, her eyes had a glint to them as though she wasn't speaking based from the mere abstract concept of _love_.

Before he could help himself, he was speaking his mind. "You sound like you've experienced that."

She chuckled, a blush creeping up her cheeks and they crossed the street. "Maybe I have."

He reached out to grasp the silver door handle the same time that she did and his hand landed on hers. The erratic beating of his heart restarted and he immediately withdrew his hand as though it had been holding onto something scalding a moment prior.

Hasegawa stared up at him for a moment before shrugging and pushing the glass door open. He followed her into the air-conditioned store as she grabbed one of the blue baskets by the charging station and made a beeline towards the shelves containing the bread. Muted popular music was playing through the speakers—a love song.

Wishing to dispel the tension that had gripped him, Midorima distracted himself by proceeding to the drinks session to get a can of his favorite. His eyes landed on the coffee stacked just above the red bean drinks and upon remembering, he took one labeled "French vanilla". As an afterthought, he grabbed three cans of orange juice before meeting Hasegawa who had already moved to the dairy section.

She was lifting an egg carton when he found her bent over, the basket already filled with a loaf of bread.

"Oh, there you are," she said when she caught him hovering a yard away. Her gaze shifted to the cans he had no trouble of holding in his large hands. "You brought drinks?" she asked, walking up to him to hold out the basket so he could place the drinks in it.

"Coffee for you. I didn't know what to get for the twins," he said, gently tugging the basket out of her grasp. She let go easily, despite her initial surprise, and he deposited the canned drinks inside.

"They drink whatever," she said, smiling. "Takao-kun likes orange juice?"

"Anything palatable," he said, adjusting his glasses. "What else do you need?"

"That's all. I have bacon and sausage back home," she said, moving to the registers. "Which one would you like for breakfast?"

"Either one will do," he answered automatically.

This elicited soft laughter from Hasegawa. "You should try being less indecisive—I mean, indecisive in disguise of being dismissive," she said as he placed the basket on the countertop.

"Good morning, ma'am," said the cashier in a tone too cheery for Midorima's sleep-deprived mind. The beeping sound of the scanner pierced through the sappy lyrics of the love song playing in the background and Midorima was slightly thankful for the distraction. Too soon, however, it was over and Midorima was reaching for his wallet.

"I'm paying," said Hasegawa, holding up a hand to stop him.

"At least for my drink and Takao's," he said, insisting.

"You can pay for them by acing the tests," she said, flipping her black leather purse open. Without meaning to, Midorima caught a glimpse of a picture of a man no older than him in the same orange Shuutoku jersey, number eight. Grinning from ear to ear, his arm was draped around the shoulder of a smiling, younger Hasegawa who wore a sailor uniform.

Hasegawa flipped the wallet shut as soon as she had taken out the notes, and when her eyes met his, they widened in question. Midorima averted his gaze as his fingers reached for his eyeglasses, feeling as though he had stepped on uncharted territory even if it was by accident.

"You saw?" she asked as he took the paper bag off the counter.

He grunted. She pushed the door open for him and he stepped out, continuing ahead without waiting for her. The reason for his evasive actions failed to reach him.

"That was my elder brother," she said as they crossed the street.

Given the permission to talk about it, he asked, "Is he a basketball player?"

"Was," she said. "Had been," she added hastily.

When he turned to her, he was positive her eyes had glazed over not because she was feeling sleepy. It made him feel the most uncomfortable she had made him in less than twelve hours.

"He quit?" he said, looking at her through the corner of his eyes.

"Forced to," she said. "Hip injury."

Midorima was silent, unable to find the right words. Quitting basketball had never really crossed his mind—Kuroko had done it for reasons he previously didn't understand—, and being forced to reminded him of the fate Haizaki suffered after being told to leave the team back in middle school.

It was dreadful.

"What does he do?" he asked, figuring that he must be less pitiful than some players he knew. His grinning face was painfully bright, and Hasegawa seemed a testament that positivity ran in the family. Surely a failed career in basketball couldn't have snuffed out that bright light?

It took him a while to realize that Hasegawa had stopped walking, the absence of the sound of her light footsteps giving him pause. When he turned around, she was staring down on the pavement, her hands balled into fists.

"Hasegawa-san?" Midorima said, too perplexed by this strange behavior. When she lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyelids were already brimming with tears.

Panicked, he retraced his footsteps. He regretted having seen the picture. He regretted having let her broach the subject. His legs were shaking when he stood inches from her, clueless as to what he should do.

The tears fell down when she grabbed his jacket and buried her face in his chest. Even in his panic-fogged mind, he had the reflex to move the paper bag out of the way. Holding it in one arm, his left hand hovered over her back, unable to decide what to do.

Should he pat her? Bring her closer?

He remembered Kuroko comforting Momoi in the past. Reluctantly, he followed the phantom's example and tentatively placed his shivering bandaged hand on top of her head, patting.

She continued to cry silently into his orange shirt. In the middle of an intimate moment, he could only divert his thoughts to his right sense of changing out of his uniform after they had eaten their dinner. On top of that, he could only wish she didn't notice how rapid his heart was beating in his chest at her close proximity.

Hasegawa's breathing soon evened out and she pulled away, covering her face with the cuffs of her sweatshirt and swiping daintily.

"Sorry, I soaked your shirt," she mumbled into the fabric. When she moved to wipe away the remaining tears, he could see her red nose and puckered lips through the space between her hands.

"A single wash would do," he said, not trying to sound too grossed out by the fact that snot had accompanied her tears.

"I can wash it for you," she said, finally peering up at him with red scleras.

Midorima shook his head. He wasn't going to make her, not when she looked like a battered puppy. "That's unnecessary," he said with finality. "Are you all right?"

Hasegawa nodded her head before looking down at her feet. "I didn't mean to cry, I'm sorry."

Catching what she meant, he said, "You don't have to tell me if it unsettles you."

"Because we're not friends?"

Midorima's breath caught in his throat and she was smiling at him again as though she hadn't been nuzzling his chest just now.

"You called me Hasegawa-san," she said, reminding him. He didn't forget and he was aware. It was the first time he addressed her by her name in a long while, and the first time he added an honorific without thinking.

Midorima adjusted his eyeglasses. "I think I did, in fact," he said, turning his back to her. Heat was already rising up his cheeks. Panic was to blame. He wasn't planning on letting his guard down.

"May I call you Midorima-kun?" she asked, stepping by his side, much closer than the previous distance they had walked in on their way to the store.

All he could manage was a grunt. They continued walking.

"Midorima-kun?"

"Yes?"

It was a sign of a permission granted and she smiled at him before her face took on a somber look.

"My brother… He got injured when I was in eighth grade," she said, voice steady. It would be a lie to say that he was not surprised by her insistence to talk about it when it clearly upset her. "He also ended his life the same year."

Cowardly, Midorima couldn't bring himself to look at her after that pronouncement. Not even through his peripheral vision.

They continued to walk in silence. The confession felt like a sledgehammer that had simultaneously broken a part of the wall that separated the two of them while breaking a part of him he had yet to pinpoint.

It answered some questions and raised several others.


	10. Wrinkle

 

Takao woke to the smell of something frying. The situation registered itself into his groggy conscious as soon as he opened his eyes to the cream panels of a ceiling that wasn't his bedroom's.

"Aw, shit," he muttered, scrambling to get up from the couch he'd collapsed on in the middle of discussing the downfall of the Tokugawa shogunate. His head turned every which way, taking in his surroundings. Sunlight poured in through the windows. The coffee table had been cleaned up, their notes neatly piled on one end.

He twisted, turning to the kitchen. From what little he could see through the counter, Midorima was wearing a blue apron, holding the frying pan out for Hasegawa who scooped out the bacon onto a platter.

His jaw dropped and he rubbed his eyes. Perhaps he was having a lucid dream and he would wake up as soon as he had rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Midorima. In an apron. In a kitchen.

The image didn't make any sense.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," said Hasegawa, smiling up at him. Midorima adjusted his eyeglasses, looking like his usual scowling self.

"Am I imagining things?" said Takao, getting up from the couch to walk towards the counter. "Shin-chan is helping prepare breakfast?"

"I am, in fact," said he, turning his back to deposit the frying pan on the sink.

Before Takao could make affect a shocked look, Hasegawa pinched him on the cheek, pulling gently. "He was helping me out while you were dreaming, Sleeping Beauty," she said. "You should at least be grateful."

"You could've woken me up," said Takao, putting on a pout.

"But Midorima-kun was being very pleasant. I couldn't resist," she said, shrugging. "Look at that. You missed a lot while you were sleeping. Including the social sciences practice test. You will have to review that one with Midorima-kun during lunchtime, you understand?"

Takao barely noted the change the first time it came out of her mouth but when it was repeated, something cold descended on his stomach. Over her shoulder, he could see Midorima placing slices of bread into the toaster slots.

Something beautiful must have happened and he really regretted not having seen it. But maybe it was for the better. He could always back Midorima into a corner about it anyway.

Hasegawa shooed him away to get cleaned up while they set up the table. He ran into one of the twins on his way to the bathroom, and she managed to blow a cloud of stale morning breath on his face as she gasped in surprise. Takao nearly died.

When he had dried his face with a towel, Midorima and Hasegawa were already seated—next to each other, discussing something over the Oha Asa playing on the television. He was certain Midorima had to guilt-trip Hasegawa into tuning in to it instead of the morning news. Takao sank on the floor across from them, watching with a small smile on his face.

There was a bitter taste inside his mouth, and he started, realizing he'd just gurgled off the putrid saliva from sleep.

Hasegawa turned to him, laughter caught in her face. "Takao-kun, go help yourself," she said, gesturing over the cutlery in front of him. "Midorima-kun tells me you're a Scorpio. You're ranked eighth today."

"Your lucky item is a fork," said Midorima, swallowing the bacon he'd been chewing just now.

Something about his expression told Takao that he was in trouble. "What did the Oha Asa say about Cancer?" said Takao as he shoved a portion of egg into his mouth.

Midorima fixed his glasses again. "Seventh. Lucky item—"

"A tampon!" Hasegawa finished for him, dissolving into a laughing mess, throwing her head back in her mirth.

Takao couldn't help the laughter that bubbled in his throat. He choked on his meal, effectively cutting Hasegawa's amusement as she rounded the table to plant herself behind him, wrapping her arms about his abdomen to perform the Heimlich maneuver.

The offending piece of bacon dislodged itself from his windpipe as soon as he felt her heave and it flew over Midorima's head—thank goodness; he felt relieved after having gotten saved from the obstruction to his breathing and that the bacon trajectory had missed his green hair. When air was once again traveling freely through his lungs, Hasegawa released him, draping an arm about his shoulders.

"That scared me, Takao-kun," she said, patting his head. "Don't laugh while you're eating."

Takao coughed the last essence of the bacon that had almost killed him and turned to her with leaking eyes. "Don't drop punchlines while someone is chewing, Hasegawa-san."

"Sorry," she said, taking a glass of water for him to drink. She reached over the table to take her bowl and eat beside him.

If this was her way of showing her sincerity in apologizing, she was doing an effective job. His eyes swept up to look at Midorima, but the green-haired giant didn't seem to care that she had just switched places. His eyes were glued to the television.

Takao caught himself. What was he even thinking about?

In an attempt to assuage the other green monster settling into the pit of his belly, he asked, "What's your sign, by the way, Hasegawa-san?"

"Pisces," she replied after swallowing. "I'm third today and my lucky item is a romance novel. Not that it matters. I don't really believe in them."

"Which is why you almost killed Takao, in fact," said Midorima.

"Excuse you," she said, trying to glare at Midorima. Operative word: trying. "I have lots of romance novels tucked beneath my bed. If the Oha Asa were accurate, then it shouldn't have happened at all."

"But you were able to save me, too," said Takao.

Hasegawa only pursed her lips, annoyed.

"Anyway, don't you think it's nice?" said Takao, realizing that they were all water signs. "It's like we're the Golden Trio."

"You mean, Midorima-kun's Harry Potter, I'm Hermione Granger, and you're Ron Weasley?" Hasegawa said, incredulous.

Takao glossed over the implications of that, at least in the romantic sense. He fought down a blush. "Not in the strict sense but we're practically bosom friends."

"What's this about bosoms?" said one of the twins as they padded in through the doorway.

"Sayu, you really are perverted, aren't you?" said the other, sinking into a seat a foot away from Midorima. Her sister sat next to her.

"You're the last person I want to hear that from, Aki," Hasegawa said, rolling her eyes. "And don't open your mouth. These kids don't need to hear _things_ from you before they go to school. Let's all be responsible grown-ups, shall we?"

"You're so cruel."

Hasegawa grinned.

Ten minutes later they were making their way out the door, full and tired from all the studying they'd done the previous night—Takao lied. He was rested. Meanwhile, Midorima looked like he would fall down like a board if the wind hit him at the right spot.

Hasegawa made haste to present a tampon in one of those floral single packs to the shooting guard before they were out. He looked ready to strangle her, muttering his thanks under his breath. She chortled and leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek and one on Takao's as well.

The pink tint that swept over Midorima's face didn't escape his notice, not even when his own face felt hot. Hasegawa shooed them away, careful to remind them of the practice test they needed to review.

"Shin-chan," said Takao as he pedaled the cart to school.

"What is it?"

"Did something happen?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Hasegawa-san," said Takao, trying not to sound too unconvinced of Midorima's projected obliviousness. "Did something happen?"

Midorima sighed. "She branded us as friends, if that's what you're trying to get at, in fact."

"You consider her a friend now?" he asked, still in his cheery manner.

"I don't think there's any use in denying it."

Takao bitterly smiled to himself.

o-o

"Midorima," said the captain after practice, a look of utter horror on his face.

He turned to him, wiping his face dry with a towel, eyebrows raised.

"What is the meaning of this?" he said, raising the tampon pack for everyone in the locker room to see.

Takao burst out laughing and Midorima put two and two together. Wringing the towel in his hands, he advanced towards the topless point guard and used it put him on chokehold until he lay unconscious.

"It's my lucky item, in fact," said Midorima belatedly, turning to the rest of the team who'd gone considerably quiet. He held out his hand and Miyaji all but tossed the tampon his way, disgusted. He effortlessly caught it in his left hand.

When Takao remained passed out on the bench after Midorima had finished packing, he dragged the lump to the cart and pedaled away, cursing his subsequent misfortune for having given in to his temper.

Even then, this was the closest to normal that he and Takao had been the whole day. It was almost radical how strange his teammate had been acting since this morning.

Perhaps it was his lack of enthusiasm, but he found out he didn't bother as much as he wanted to. Maybe Takao was only having one of his episodes. Sentimentality was unsettling and Midorima wasn't keen on getting to the bottom of it now that they had less than twenty-four hours before the proficiency tests. Even if _it_ concerned Takao.

Takao stirred as they were pulling up in front of the apartment complex and he all but shrieked upon realizing that he still lacked a shirt.

"Shin-chan, you could've clothed me," he said, grumbling as he got out of the cart with a hastily-worn wrinkled jersey.

"I pedaled for you, in fact. I can't do too many selfless deeds in one day," said Midorima as the doors to the lifts opened.

Takao continued to whine about how it wasn't selfless when he was only compensating for almost killing him and when Hasegawa opened the door for them, he draped his form over hers, faux-crying.

"Uh, what happened?" she asked, confused and backed against a wall.

"Shin-chan choked me till I passed out and he delivered me here without putting a shirt on me."

Hasegawa's hand covered her face for a moment before she patted the point guard on the head. "Okay, I'm getting your favorite kimchi from the store. Go shower and change. You smell like a teenager."

"Hasegawa-san is so nice," said Takao before engulfing her in a tight embrace. Midorima felt his heart clench. "Shin-chan is your polar opposite."

"I know that," she said, laughing. "Now go."

Takao skipped to the bathroom, singing a rock song under his breath. Hasegawa turned to Midorima, her lips pursed.

"I didn't know you were that sadistic, Midorima-kun," she said, walking past him to retrieve a jacket off the hook. "I'll be quick. The rice should be ready in ten minutes. Just press the keep-warm button when it's cooked. You can do that, can't you?"

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. Today their insults were too effective, grating on his nerves.

Hasegawa looked up at him, eyebrows raised. She lifted two fingers and rubbed them against the spot where his eyebrows met.

"You're doing that again," she said, now raising both hands. Her thumbs smoothened out the wrinkles he couldn't see and traced the arch of his eyebrows back and forth until he had finally relaxed his face. "There. It feels much lighter, doesn't it? More facial muscles contract when you frown than when you smile, did you know that? And you're more beautiful when you're not giving a look of doom."

Hasegawa Sayuri had the ability to utter words that would set his teeth on edge without so much as batting an eyelash. The exact moment in time that she had started to have such an effect on him was largely unknown, but when she smiled before disappearing behind the door, the calming of his previously-racing heart left him almost out of breath.

He couldn't put a name to what he felt. He was afraid to be able to.

o-o

_Hi, Midorima-kun! How did the tests go?_

Midorima read the black characters over and over. He had felt the vibration in his pocket as soon as the lunch bell rang, but he ignored it as he and Takao silently proceeded to the rooftop. Only when he was already seated under the bright sunlight did he flip his phone open to find the message she had sent.

He contemplated a reply. Takao was already wolfing down the lunch Hasegawa had prepared and he mulled asking him if he had received any message. As if on cue, Takao started and fumbled for his pocket, taking out his phone.

Midorima shut and pocketed his phone as Takao turned to him, grinning from ear to ear. He shoved the phone under Midorima's nose and Midorima read the same characters, only this time it was Takao's name with an emoticon.

Did she knowingly send Takao a message later than she sent him one?

"Look, Hasegawa-san sent me a message," Takao said, withdrawing his hand to type in a reply.

Not a minute later, Takao's phone vibrated again and he opened it. "She says she's relieved and that she's hoping we'll pass. She's also requesting that we tell her our rankings as soon as they're out."

Midorima silently listened as he ate the onigiri she had wrapped herself. It was good, much like his mother's cooking, but somehow it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Takao kept sending her text messages until the bell for the end of lunch period rang, sometimes sharing what she said but other times just laughing his face off. She must have been keeping an eye on her phone since she had sent Midorima a message and was still expecting a response.

He wondered why she texted him first instead of Takao.

He also wondered why he felt a tinge of guilt for choosing not to send an answer.

"She won't be seeing us until next Saturday, by the way," said Takao as they descended the stairs. "She wishes us good luck for the championships."

Midorima wasn't looking forward to seeing her anytime soon but a cold feeling descended on his stomach. It had nothing to do with the food she'd fixed for him.


	11. Porridge

 

The weekdays preceding the championship league rolled by in a haze. Between practice and school, Midorima barely did anything other than practicing his shooting again and again, Takao playing one-on-ones with him. They had both scored well in the proficiency tests, and by that he meant he ranked first while Takao, hundredth. Hasegawa was beside herself with glee when she called Takao after being sent the news.

When Saturday came, he left the house carrying the lucky item for the day—a volume of shoujo manga—along with a promise to his younger sister that he would go home victorious and a qualifier to the Inter High. His father wished him good luck after briefly looking over a bulletin he perused at the breakfast table and his mother kissed him on the cheek.

Takao was waiting outside the gate with the cart, a lazy grin on his face. Despite not voicing it out, he was sure his teammate was eager to face Senshinkan.

The ride to the gymnasium was a quiet one, and upon meeting up with the team, the coach herded them into the locker room for a final word. Midorima made sure to tie the shoelaces of his right shoe first and checked if his nails were in the same perfection he'd filed them in the night before. He was ranked second today. With the odds, he would still fare quite well in the match; he could feel it in his fingertips.

When they stepped into the court, all inhibitions fled from his body and he adjusted his eyeglasses upon lining up with the opposing team. The whistle was blown, and in the air the ball was thrown.

They had the first possession and he scored the first net, upsetting the mounting tension in their favor. He and Takao quickly changed course and took on defense.

By the end of the second quarter, they were leading by ten points. He filed his nails again upon reaching the locker room and held the manga in his hands all the while the coach gave instructions. The first half barely saw him in action as he had reserved his three-pointers for the last two quarters.

Senshinkan High didn't disappoint. The lead could be easily closed with four or five baskets. Letting their guard down would be the sure path to defeat.

With this resolve, Midorima and the Shuutoku team stepped out of the locker room a last time and walked back to the court with victory in mind.

Fourth quarter proved to be quite difficult and Midorima had reached his limit. It seemed all the teams had gotten stronger since last year. Which was expected, as the victory of the then dark horse, Seirin, opened doors to a lot of aspiring teams.

By only a one-point lead, Shuutoku was able to clinch their first victory for the championship league. One more and they could advance to the quarterfinals of the Inter High.

When their group dispersed after the match, he and Takao made their way to the cart. Only when they saw the college student standing idly by the bike did he remember that he hadn't seen hide nor tail of her today.

She lifted her eyes off her phone and greeted them with her warm smile, jogging to meet them at the bottom of the stairs.

"Congrats!" she said, throwing her arms around their necks and jumping up and down in glee. "Just one more and you're sure to qualify, right?"

"Yeah, Hasegawa-san," said Takao, giving her a thumbs-up.

"I missed both of you," she said, holding them by an arm. Takao helped her into the cart and Midorima settled into his usual spot next to her. "I'm treating you tonight. Where would you like to eat?"

Midorima didn't mind answering. Takao suggested that they ate some steak. For reasons unknown, her presence made him nervous and he wished to shut out the overwhelming brightness she exuded even in her silence.

"Is something the matter, Midorima-kun?" she asked as they were waiting for their orders.

"Nothing," he said, fixing his eyeglasses.

"I heard you ranked first in the proficiency tests," she said, grinning. "That's amazing."

"I'm sure the feeling's not that foreign to you. In fact, there's no need to compliment me," he said, turning away.

Takao saved the atmosphere that had steadily grown cold. "Don't mind him, Hasegawa-san. He's been out of it since this morning."

Needless to say, Hasegawa heeded Takao's advice and didn't talk to him for a good portion of the meal. When she did, it was with less enthusiasm than he was used to.

It made him feel less anxious, but it didn't help the heavy feeling at the pit of his belly. It seemed she was more than perceptive and was able to tell that her presence was unwanted, so she said goodbye to them as soon as they finished their meal, giving the excuse that she had hospital duty. Which was _obviously_ a lie.

She didn't even touch him or Takao. She just turned on her heels and ran off.

"What's wrong with you today?" asked Takao on their way home.

"I told you. There's nothing."

"You can't use that on me, Shin-chan," he said.

Midorima opted to remain silent until they reached his house.

o-o

He didn't see her running on Sunday. The realization that he'd been expecting her hit him like a cold breeze after coming out of a warm shower and if he hadn't been paying attention, he would've tripped on the curb along the track.

Midorima paused and slowed to a walk. Something was not right.

o-o

The next Saturday, Sayuri woke to a bad case of summer cold and she called the infirmary to inform her fellows she was sick, asking for leave. Either she'd forgotten to take her vitamins twice or thrice this week or the coughing fit the elderly patient she was assigned to observe the night before had sprinkled the air with black pixie dust that she inhaled.

 _Or_ she'd gotten little to no sleep at all the past week to make up for studying and duty.

Sayuri rolled over, clearing her nasty, itchy throat and fell asleep as soon as she tossed the comforter over her head.

A ringtone that her fuzzy head vaguely registered as hers went off and woke her perhaps around midday, and she scrambled to reach for the offensive piece of technology on her nightstand before putting it over hear ear without checking the caller ID.

"Hasegawa-san!"

Takao's excited voice launched her headache skyrocketing and the energy she had to heave from her core just to put more distance between the device and her ear almost left her out of breath.

"Takao-kun?"

There was a pause in the line. She could hear baritone cheering in the background and the imagined vibrations in the air almost helped with the headache.

"Are you sick, Hasegawa-san?" asked Takao, his voice immediately dropping to a less-wounding pitch.

Deeming it safe, Sayuri pressed the phone once again to her ear. "Caught the flu," she managed to say in her raspy voice. Clearing her throat again, she said, "Any news?"

Takao seemed torn between sounding cheery and concerned. He settled for a neutral tone. "We won against Meisen," he said.

"Yay! Congrats!" said Sayuri, her voice breaking at the last syllable, like a frog croaking in the rain. "Sorry, I intended to sound more cheerful."

"It's okay. I understand," he said. The sound of a locker room door being opened then closed, and the baritone cheering faded further into the background before being cut off. "Are you alone? Do you have medicine with you?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, fighting back a cough. "Just a pill and some more rest and I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" he asked as Sayuri gave in to a coughing fit. "I can come over."

"No, Takao-kun. You might catch the bug if you did. Just go rest up. I know you're tired." _I don't want to see Midorima right now._ She knew he would be coming if he granted Takao permission. She could practically feel it in her fingertips.

"But Hasegawa-san—"

"Takao-kun, please," she said. "I'll call you later. Bye."

She hung up and put the phone on silent mode, covering herself again with the comforter, falling into the abyss once more.

"She looks terrible."

"I already told you that this is, in fact, a bad idea."

"But she looks like she hasn't taken her meds. Nor has she eaten."

"What is it that you plan to do, you idiot?"

"I dunno, cook porridge?"

"In the middle of summer? Are you, in fact, stupid?"

Sayuri opened her encrusted eyes and found blue and green eyes hovering over her. In her bedroom. Shocked beyond description, she fell out of bed and rolled on the floor, comforter and all.

Hands that she vaguely recognized as Takao's flew right into her line of vision, and her head that had been spinning just now in a kaleidoscope of ceiling, tatami, and cream comforter stilled. The headache came back full force and she groaned from her position on the floor.

"Hasegawa-san, are you okay?" said Takao in a whisper.

Sayuri's hands made their way to clutch at her head. It was so painful, like a jackhammer being rammed into her temples, that tears had already leaked out of her eyes.

"Shin-chan!" Takao called, still in a whisper.

With so much care that she didn't feel any more nauseous than she already did, Sayuri was being lifted off the floor and out of the tangled mess of her comforter. She was deposited back on her bed in a sitting position, and green hair caught in her fuzzy vision just before the comforter was thrown over her and her head, secured around her neck.

"Hasegawa-san," said his deep voice just in front of her. He shouldn't even be here. Why was he here when he could've opted out? Why was he addressing her that way? "Do you keep the medicine in the bathroom?"

She nodded her head.

"Takao, take the medicine box. I'll get the cold compress."

The two of them left her side and she collapsed into her pillows, still clutching her head. She should've popped a pill as soon as she woke this morning. Her knees were in a worse condition than she remembered when she decided she was too lazy to get up and stayed in bed instead.

When Takao came back with the paracetamol and a glass of water, she was coaxed to lift her head off the pillows to swallow the drug and drink some water. Midorima soon padded inside and the comforter was pried off her grasp and pulled up to her neck. Cold fingertips brushed over her forehead—she pressed her eyelids together to relish the feeling—before they were replaced by the damp towel.

"Thank you," she whispered through pursed lips. The headache was yet to begin subsiding, but she could already feel immense relief from the cold compress.

The two boys were silent for a while and maybe she had fallen asleep again for when she cracked her eyes open, they were gone. She tried sitting up, the damp towel ending up on the floor as she had twisted to push herself off the bed.

Weakly reaching a hand out to retrieve the fallen towel, she heard footsteps padding through the doorway followed by a grunt too annoyed to be Takao's. As though to make her situation look worse, a coughing fit washed over her, and she doubled over, teetering off the edge of the bed.

"What are you, in fact, doing?" said Midorima in exasperation, covering the distance in three strides and righting her. She looked up at him as she recovered from the hacking and he turned away, picking up the towel. "Lie down, I'll change this."

He didn't let her speak before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. Now more alert, she could hear something boiling. She didn't know how long it took him to come back with a large bowl of ice and a fresh towel but she caught him starting when she met his eyes as he passed through the doorway.

It had gotten considerably darker outside but she could see the softened edges of his otherwise taut jaw. His hands deftly moved to extract the towel from the rapidly melting ice and he pressed a hand on her shoulder, near the spot where it met her neck, to gently push her back down.

Perhaps it was the fever talking but she felt his fingers shivering when he patted the towel to smoothen it on her forehead. Those same fingertips brushed against her temples once more and a groan, betraying the pleasure of having them there, escaped her throat when he withdrew his hands.

"Are you in pain?" he asked.

Through heavily-lidded eyes, she reached out to take his hands on hers and placed one on either temple. Midorima flinched at what she did but he calmed down once she let her hands fall on her sides.

"Do you want me to massage your temple?" he asked after a few moments.

"No," she answered weakly. Was _he_ actually offering? "Just don't move them yet."

Midorima's fingers ever-so-slightly shifted. The bandaged left ones didn't feel as cold and soothing as those on his right hand but she was grateful all the same.

Silence descended upon the two of them, and Sayuri could hear his breathing as she heard her wheezing. He smelled of rubbing alcohol and musk—like those expensive perfumes from high-end boutiques. He must have applied the alcohol before coming in contact with her. He was a neat freak, after all.

True to her request, he hadn't moved and Sayuri's lips curled into a small smile.

"Your porridge should be ready soon," he said, voice barely above a whisper, as though he was careful not to disturb her if she had already fallen asleep.

Sayuri blearily peered up at him. His arm was visibly strained from their position and she reached a hand over to pry them off. Confused, he furrowed his eyebrows at her. Sayuri briefly wondered if it was his default expression for every emotion he felt.

"That should do, thank you," she mumbled. "You're doing it again."

When a deeper scowl was given as a response to her observation, she lifted a finger to her face, unable to will the energy to reach him from this distance. Today gravity was her nemesis. With the headache gone, all else felt heavy—eyes, lips, limbs.

"Here," she said as she rubbed on the space between her eyebrows. "You're doing it again," she repeated.

Midorima, appalled by her small talk, only huffed and sank on the floor, leaning his back on the side of the bed. The frown didn't leave his face and Sayuri could only sigh in defeat.

The tense silence continued to stretch, and from where she was she could hear Takao's attempts at cooking something edible, the evening news from the neighbor's, and Midorima's _breathing_.

Sayuri sighed. This teenager had been elusive since she met him and since their encounter at the convenience store, he'd been more dismissive of her, as though her presence was deeply unwanted. It hurt even though it was her who'd been forcing her way into his life all this time.

She just wanted to be friends. And she liked hanging out with him and Takao. They walked into her life and she could've let them pass her by but she continued walking with them. Perhaps if she hadn't seen them in the café that fateful day and perhaps if Midorima hadn't forced himself to address her with respect, she would've let go.

But he'd proven himself to be quite a character, and oddly enough, she found out he made her happy. Especially when she got a rise out of him.

"What are you, in fact, staring at?" he asked, eyes just as intense as they were on the court.

Sayuri recoiled, curling into herself and burying her burning cheeks into the comforter in an attempt to be modest. She hadn't realized she was _staring_ at him.

"Nothing," she mumbled through the sheets.

Midorima frowned at her again before looking away, adjusting his eyeglasses.

"Why do you tape your fingers?" she said. She was gripped with the overwhelming urge to sneeze and her head jerked back as prelude to a big one.

Midorima jumped away, scrambling to get the tissue box off her dresser and pressing several pulls into her hands before she let out one that was so hideous it subsequently sent her hacking her lungs off their bronchi.

The dry coughing fit left her wheezing and her eyes moist with tears. Midorima grabbed the trash bin sitting by the door and moved it towards the bed, within her reach. She threw the balled tissue into them and pulled out several others to clear her nose. When she was done, Midorima sat himself across the bed, careful to stay without the range of her microbe projectiles.

"To keep them in perfect condition before I play," he said.

"That's serious dedication," she said with a slight cough, smiling.

"I can't afford to miss," he said.

"So you don't let the team down, right?"

Midorima stared her in the eye. "Yes."

"Teenagers are so cute," she said, grinning.

Perhaps she was imagining things but Midorima seemed to have gritted his teeth as though exasperated of her comments.

She was left to riddle about it, however, because Takao walked in with a tray and three bowls of steaming porridge. He set the tray on the low table on the floor but Midorima held up a hand to spray the surface with alcohol—she didn't know where it came from, either—before giving leave to his teammate.

"Would you take the floor, Hasegawa-san?" said Takao, turning to her.

She nodded. "I think I can eat by myself," she said, taking the towel off her head. Takao tossed it back at Midorima, much to the shooting guard's chagrin.

Takao held out both hands and she grasped them, wriggling out of the comforters and lightly leaning on him as her knees shook from putting her weight on her legs after a whole day of not moving. When she was finally seated on the floor, Midorima held out the spray bottle of alcohol and sprayed some on her hands and Takao's.

Takao placed a bowl of the porridge in front of her and handed her a spoon. Her hunger had remained unnoticed until she had scooped the steaming soft rice and brought it to her lips. Blowing at it once, she shoved it in her mouth, chewed twice and swallowed.

Instantly, the relief it brought to her throat was felt and she smiled at Takao. "Thank you, Takao-kun. It tastes good."

"I make it for Chi-chan when she's sick," he said, eating his share.

"She must be lucky to have a brother like you, then," she said, dimly reminded of her own brother. Her eyes caught Midorima's and he looked away, as though aware of the fleeting thought in her mind.

"Shin-chan's got a younger sister too, about the same age as mine," Takao said.

It took her aback. "You do?" she asked, clearly intrigued. He hadn't come across as someone who had a younger sibling. Or maybe he was just the grouchy kind of an elder brother.

Midorima nodded and ate more porridge.

"What's her name?"

"Erika."

Sayuri smiled. "That's a beautiful name."

Midorima didn't say anything.

"I called home and told Mom I'm crashing tonight," said Takao after a while. "Chi-chan said she'd like to see you soon again."

Sayuri beamed at the prospect. "Sure. What do you say you take her here next Sunday? I'll help her do homework."

Takao's smile faded a little. "Are you sure you want to be a doctor, Hasegawa-san? You're more teacher material."

"Teaching is a hobby. It's also effective as a studying method. Ask the twins," she said.

"Do you have a sibling, Hasegawa-san?" Takao asked.

Sayuri almost blanched and her throat tightened.

"Takao, why does this porridge taste bland?" Midorima cut in.

The porridge _wasn't_ bland at all—

"You're lying, Shin-chan," said Takao, whining.

"Get some salt," said Midorima, glaring at his teammate. "Now."

Takao scrambled to get up and retrieve the salt from the kitchen and Sayuri gaped at Midorima who wasn't meeting her gaze. Her breathing evened out and a smile danced on her lips.

"Thank you," she whispered. She really was grateful.

Midorima only adjusted his glasses.

When Takao came back, Sayuri immediately steered the conversation to a different course. "By the way, how did you get in?"

"We told the landlady you were sick and that we came to patch you up."

Sayuri's face fell. That old lady should be more cautious!

When they finished eating, Takao helped her up the bed again and Midorima re-applied the cold compress. She felt so much better with food in her system.

"You can take the sleeping bags from there and set up in the living room," she said, pointing to the lowest drawer of her wardrobe.

"We'll set up here," said Takao.

Sayuri protested. "No, in the living room. You can't afford to catch the bug while you're having your games." She forced a cough just to make her point clear.

After much arguing, Takao relented and Midorima excused himself to take care of the dishes, muttering that he better disinfected them. Takao took the sleeping bags and left her in her room. When he came back, he made her drink another pill before replacing the cold compress and wishing her goodnight.

Midorima didn't come to see her and she fell asleep with a pout on her face.


	12. Dream

 

What was that?

Takao woke to the sound of light footsteps and a coughing fit. He cracked his eyes open to see Midorima's back turned to him, walking to the direction of Hasegawa's bedroom. Before he disappeared from view, Takao caught sight of the glass of water and bowl of ice in his hands.

He shifted to peer at the clock in the wall. The soft glow of the light from the hallway let him see the hands—it was minutes past two in the morning.

Hasegawa's coughing subsided with the opening of a box and the clink of glass against wood. There was murmuring and a muted grunt, and Midorima's unmistakble footfalls neared after a while.

He proceeded to the kitchen and turned on the tap. He washed his hands and the spraying of alcohol echoed through the silent apartment. When he finally made his way back to the sleeping bag beside Takao's, Takao found out he couldn't go back to sleep.

What was that?

Earlier he'd so obviously distracted Takao when he'd asked about Hasegawa's sibling. Did he know something Takao didn't?

Now he was playing nurse to Hasegawa when he'd grumbled that it was a bad idea to pay her a visit. Something had definitely changed, and Takao tossed and turned in his sleep for a good hour. Half the time he puzzled what it was. The other half, he was convincing himself that he wasn't too affected.

By what, exactly?

That Hasegawa and Midorima shared a secret that Midorima didn't want him to know or that Hasegawa was unwilling to share? But he was the first she befriended and he was always the one who kept trying to get to know her better, so why?

Takao could almost laugh at himself. Why was he acting so hung up about something as silly as being the first friend? He and Midorima shared a longer history. So why should he act so jealous over a girl?

Takao caught himself. He wasn't jealous. He was just…

Takao willed himself to sleep.

o-o

Midorima couldn't sleep.

Not when he could hear Hasegawa hacking like she wanted her lungs to fly across the room.

At four in the morning, he peeled himself off the sleeping bag and took a new bowl of ice from the fridge. He poured her a glass of water and walked silently to her bedroom. Careful not to wake her, he slid open the door to her room and made his way to her bed, taking the towel off her forehead.

He placed his right hand on her neck and felt his own. Her fever had broken but she was still warm. He soaked the towel in the bowl and wrung it of the excess water before replacing it.

Hasegawa's face relaxed as soon as the towel was laid on her forehead. Midorima's gaze lingered on her sleeping face, for the first time noting that her dark eyelashes were as long as Kise's when he'd applied his make-up. They didn't curl against her skin but they were longer than he'd initially thought.

Midorima knew he was _staring_ but he couldn't look away.

Hasegawa wasn't strikingly beautiful. She was plain and looked like a normal college student, if the dark circles under her eyes were to be attributed to being a _normal_ college student. Neat and able, but someone who wasn't unnecessarily girly. Her nose was straight and lean, her lips unremarkable.

For a moment his eyes lingered on those thin lips.

A drop escaped from the towel, sliding down her temple—perfect distraction—and he reached out to pat it dry with his fingers.

"Nii-chan?"

Her eyes suddenly opened and Midorima froze under her unfocused gaze. But then the tears came fast and she was diving and throwing her arms around him, sobbing into his neck. The towel fell on the floor, discarded.

Seconds passed before he realized what was happening. He moved from his position on the floor and placed an arm about her as he sat himself on the bed. She buried her face into his chest and continued sobbing there as he tried to distract himself from thoughts of her snot and germs, patting her on the head with his free hand.

She was shivering. Midorima instinctively ran his hand up and down her back, trying to calm her. It was almost like when Erika was sick and having nightmares—somehow Midorima knew how to comfort her, especially when she spoke of her yearning for her own elder brother.

She must have dreamt of him.

A different calm took over him upon realizing that. His heart stilled and he relaxed in her hold, offering her an actual warm body to hold onto rather than a tense, unmoving wall.

Holding her this way, letting her cry into his shirt, he wondered how she felt when she had episodes and was alone. Whom did she cry to? Did she call someone? Or did she lay in bed, crying into her pillow?

Midorima couldn't believe this. Only a week ago he was avoiding her like the plague, afraid he would fall further into the unknown realm that she had built around him. Now, in her vulnerability, he was once again held prisoner. And deep down inside, in the very corners of his system, he was willing to be at her disposal. To be her confidant, be somebody to her.

His thought bubble was burst when Takao's voice echoed from behind him.

"Shin-chan? What's wrong?"

Hasegawa's hands balled the fabric of the shirt that covered his back. "Fever dream," he said, not looking at Takao. "Hand me the water."

Takao was quick to cover the distance from the door and took the glass sitting on the low table.

"Hasegawa-san," said Midorima, rubbing his hand on her back with renewed vigor as she had restarted coughing. He inwardly flinched. He would need to disinfect himself and take a warm shower after this.

Takao placed a hand on her shoulder and gently coaxed her away. She relented but stayed clinging to Midorima's shirt, tendrils of hair stuck on her face. Takao brought the glass to her lips and she drank, sniffing.

"Takao," said Midorima, gesturing towards the fallen towel. "Wash it in the bath. We need to clean her up."

Takao gave him a look—he didn't miss it—before complying. When Takao turned back with a damp towel, Midorima tilted Hasegawa's face and wiped it clean of her tears and snot, pushing her hair away to clear her face.

Her swollen eyes were turned away, embarrassed. Her flushed face was a dead giveaway to how exposed she felt in their midst. He put the towel in front of her nose and she looked up at him with red scleras.

"Blow on it," he said, pressing it against her nostrils. She did, and Midorima felt like puking.

When she was done, he wiped the remaining yellow goo from her nose with a clean corner of the towel and turned to Takao.

"I'm going to wash this. Stay here and let her sleep," he said, prying her hands off him. Perhaps it was because of the lack of physical strength that she let go without much of a fight.

Midorima peeled himself off the bed and took the glass and bowl from the low table, making a beeline to the bathroom to wash the snotty towel. He drenched the whole thing in alcohol and boiled water, letting it soak in a basin he found next to the bathtub while he washed the glass and bowl in the kitchen sink.

He would also have to replace his bandages for the umpteenth time in twenty-four hours. The roll had been considerably reduced.

When he went back to the room to disinfect the low table, he found Takao sitting on the bed, hand stroking the college student's hair.

"Do you know if she's always like this when she's sick?" he asked him softly, eyes never leaving her face as he studied her. Midorima was flustered; Takao was giving her a look he couldn't place.

"How am I, in fact, supposed to know that?" Midorima said as he sprayed the table with alcohol.

"You know what it is that she's had a nightmare about," said Takao with an edge to his voice.

Midorima paused from spraying, his hand poised on top of the table. "It's not my story to tell," he said before turning on his heels. "I'm calling the coach to tell him of her condition. It's his right to know, in fact. I'll take a shower after."

Takao didn't say anything.

Midorima was in the shower when he heard front door open and the coach's voice followed by that of a female. He hastened and got out to find the coach and a woman—presumably her mother even if they didn't look alike—, standing next to the bed. Sunlight had started to filter into the room and he could see the mother frowning, which wasn't far from what he'd expected to see, only that it was of disappointment rather concern.

"Honestly, Sayuri, what were you thinking?" she was saying to the equally frowning Hasegawa. "What are you playing house for with a bunch of kids?"

They turned their heads to him the same time Takao did and Midorima bowed his head in greeting. If the coach had sounded angry on the phone, now he looked positively livid.

"Kaori," said the coach, gesturing to Midorima. "This is Midorima Shintarou. Midorima, this is Hasegawa Kaori, Sayuri's mother."

The hardened gaze of Mrs. Hasegawa would have sent anyone running away but he stood his ground.

"I take it that my daughter has made friends with you and Takao-kun," she said, her voice lacking any hint of emotion, but dripping plain disregard.

Midorima nodded his head, holding her gaze.

"Mom, please—"

"You're going to keep your mouth shut, Sayuri," said her mother, angered, pointing a finger at her. Hasegawa's hands gripped her comforter tighter and she bit her lip.

Mrs. Hasegawa turned to the two of them. "I'm sorry my daughter has inconvenienced both of you. I guess she forgot to tell you that she has a mother." She bowed low, and Takao and Midorima exchanged furtive glances, not knowing how to respond. "Thank you for taking care of her."

She straightened and forced a smile. "She will not be bothering you anymore, I promise."

"Mrs. Hasegawa—" Takao started.

The coach stepped in. "We'll be taking our leave," said he, bowing to the Hasegawa's before grabbing both of the basketball players by the arm.

Hasegawa's eyes were leaking and that was the last of her that he saw before they were whisked out and instructed to grab their belongings. The only consolation Midorima was left with was the fact that he had fixed the sleeping bags and put them away before he took his shower. At least her mother wouldn't bully her further with comments on her guests' lack of decorum.

Before the front door was shut, he heard a hissed, "You've done this before. That Hanamiya and that Kiyoshi. What else do you want—?"

Midorima's heart jumped in his throat. What was that?

The coach dragged the two of them to the cart parked outside and crossed his arms along his chest. "Honestly, I expected more from the two of you," he said, lips pressed to a thin line. "You could've told me sooner. What were you thinking?"

There was no arguing against that. And Midorima could not even put the blame on Takao. This was both their fault. Perhaps it was a subconscious effort to pay her back after everything that she did for him and his teammate. But both Takao and Midorima knew that if they were to tell the coach as much, Hasegawa would only get into more trouble.

So they remained silent and bowed their heads as the coach reprimanded them in the middle of a silent street on a Sunday morning.

Midorima regretted having called the coach. Sort of.

 


	13. Goldfish

 

True enough, Hasegawa Sayuri hadn't spoken to either of them even when their gazes met in the hallways of the stadium. They lost to Seirin in the championship league and not a word, not even a text message, was sent.

He and Takao hadn't broached the subject even weeks after. Neither of them dared sending her a text message first. It was as though she had completely become a stranger, and the only interaction they ever had was the occasional glances that she would look away from first whenever she crossed paths with them.

It was an unspoken secret that both and Takao missed her. It left a hollow feeling in the pit of his belly, and not even practice helped.

He partly blamed himself for what had happened. Perhaps, if he hadn't call the coach…

Why did he even call the coach? Because he wanted to get away before she could further lure him in and become an indispensable support pillar for whenever she felt unhappy?

Midorima didn't want that. He didn't want that kind of commitment.

Takao's younger sister had complained that she missed his brother's _girlfriend_ one sunny afternoon when they had to fetch her in a train station after she lost her coin purse and was unable to go home.

The child's mistaken impression bothered him less than the last words she heard from Mrs. Hasegawa. Hanamiya Makoto and Kiyoshi Teppei. What did she mean when she said Hasegawa had done it before? And what had she done?

All he knew was that Hanamiya Makoto addressed her as "Sayu-nee" and that he respected her to a degree that she wasn't hit when Midorima had thought Hanamiya would. She had tackled him to the ground after all.

Hasegawa Sayuri was such a puzzle. Akashi would delight in this, but that was the least of his worries.

"Shin-chan," said Takao one afternoon after practice, driving the cart after another loss at rock-paper-scissors. "Your birthday's on Thursday."

"I know."

"Do you have plans?"

"None."

"It's Tanabata."

"So?"

"Captain Miyaji asked permission from the coach so we could have a day off practice. We're all going," he said, twisting on the seat to smile at him when the light changed.

Midorima averted his eyes. Even if he had the best of luck on that day given that it was a festival and the seventh day of the seventh month, he didn't look forward to spending his evening with a bunch of rowdy basketball players in yukata. "I'm not."

"But I already told your mom. Your sister's going, too. Chi-chan, too."

A vein popped in his temple. "When did I give you permission to decide things on your own?" he yelled, exasperated.

o-o

This was lame.

Takao swore he'd never seen Midorima look so glum since he'd taken a socking to the jaw that sent him to the hospital. Something was clearly occupying his thoughts since they had had a standoff with Hasegawa's mother. It didn't help matters that they couldn't talk about it— _chose_ not to.

When the coach and elder Hasegawa paraded into the room with looks of doom, Takao was hell bent on yelling at Midorima for calling the grown-ups but when he saw the glint of shock in his eyes after stepping out of the shower, he figured even Midorima didn't expect the mother hen to come along with the coach.

But it could all have been prevented _if_ the coach was never contacted in the first place. But then, they wouldn't know what to do with Hasegawa. She clearly had a problem, and Midorima only sought to prevent further breakdowns by calling the family who should know better than their scrawny little asses did.

Suffice it to say that while he lamented being forced to discontinue being chummy with the college girl, he thought it was for the best. Besides, if they were being realistic, they were bound to find out if he and Midorima kept up with "playing house". And if they dragged it out for far longer, who knew what could happen?

Perhaps it was better this way. She had mommy issues, after all.

But was it?

The answer came in the form of a text message one fine Sunday morning. Takao was helping Chieki with her artwork when his phone went off. It was an unknown number, and he wiped his hands dry of the watercolor on a dishtowel before flipping his phone open.

_Hi, Takao!_ _（＾∀＾）_ _It's Yoshioka Aki. Can I call?_

His eyebrows shot further up his forehead. Where did she get his number?

_Yes, Yoshioka-san._ _(^○^)_

His ringtone went off as soon as he had shut the phone and he stood up, telling his sister that he'd be back.

"Yes?"

"Hello, Takao," said the small voice from the other line. "Listen, are you free on Thursday?"

Takao couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was _she_ asking him out on a date? "Thursday?"

"Yeah, the Tanabata!"

She _was_ asking him out. What on Earth was happening? "I'm not sure, we've got practice after school."

"Is that so?" She sounded discouraged. "Sayu's been acting strange lately and when we ask her about you kids she won't answer. We thought something might've happened since she hasn't been seeing you two."

Takao placed a hand on his face. Of course. "Something really happened, Yoshioka-san."

"Waah?" said the other Yoshioka. It seemed they'd put the phone on loudspeaker. "What happened?"

"Long story short, we're not allowed to see her anymore."

"The hell?" said Yoshioka Aki. "Who will do that?"

"Her mother will do that," piped up Yoshioka Natsumi.

"No way."

"Yes way," said Takao, sighing. "Things happened and that's pretty much how we ended up not seeing each other lately. Or ever."

The twins sighed themselves. "No wonder she's been attending duty even on her day offs," said Yoshioka Aki.

"Must've been a pain to have her dragon mother breathing down her neck again," said Yoshioka Natsumi, agreeing.

So he was right. She had mommy issues.

"Hmm, but to hell with her mother."

"We're bringing her with us to the festival. Maybe you can meet up with her on Thursday night? I think she needs to see both of you."

"Yeah, she badly needs your company. She even installed the Oha Asa app on her phone the other day. Your friend's weird must've rubbed off on her."

Takao's chest tightened. Did she miss them— _him_ —that badly?

"It's starting to get worrisome, really."

Takao remembered the scene he'd walked into that Sunday morning. She had been clinging to Midorima who had bent over to accommodate her in the curve of his torso. He was neither tense nor rigid, like he knew what he exactly he was doing, as though it had happened before.

Even if he tried to deny it, he knew Midorima no longer stood with him holding a mere blank slate. He had shared something with Hasegawa and they had built a fragile bubble around them. And Takao was relegated to the task of taking care of that bubble, keeping out an eye for anyone who dared burst it.

He was a friend and he gladly took on the task, even with the pang of jealousy in his chest. It was Midorima's birthday, too, so he might as well consider this a gift.

"Okay, I'll make sure the coach clears our schedule that day and bring Shin-chan along."

"Yay! Thank you so much, Takao! We owe you!"

"No, you don't. Shin-chan needs a break, too, I guess."

He released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and gripped the phone tightly in his hand.

As he went back to help Chieki paint a heart, he came to the conclusion that this was his first heartbreak.

If only painting dozens of hearts would heal him easily, he would've finished Chieki's artwork for her.

o-o

"Why aren't you, in fact, wearing a yukata, Takao?" asked Midorima as he pulled up in front of the gate with the cart. In it, a yukata-clad Chieki was waving at him and Erika.

Takao smiled, smarting his casual top and jeans. "I'm the chauffeur for the Emperor and the Princesses."

"You're not being funny, in fact," said Midorima as he carried Erika and deposited her into the cart next to Chieki before climbing up himself.

"It's your birthday. I might as well," he said before pedaling away from the house.

It was nearing the middle of summer; even at five in the afternoon, the sun was still visible behind the clouds. An afternoon jog was a very welcome idea with the temperature that had become more bearable as the night neared. If only his sister wasn't all excited about the festival, he would've opted out.

He held the paper fan that was his lucky item for the day, peering at it with disinterest. For someone who was only turning seventeen, he felt so tired of life recently. He put the blame mostly on their failure to beat Seirin in the Inter High. And Rakuzan rising as champions. Again.

The little girls were giggling about something, and he watched them planning their itinerary for the evening. He expected to bring home some goldfish. Again.

"Where are we meeting with the team?" Midorima asked Takao.

"By the food stands," he replied as they took a final turn to the main road leading to the central park.

Sure enough, that was where the cart was headed, and already, Midorima could see the crowd of festivalgoers. Even though he'd been particularly fond of the school festival back in middle school, the sheer amount of people going to the Tanabata was enough to suck out all his reserved energy. The fact that they had brought with them two children that needed to be constantly kept within eyesight was no consolation.

Midorima sighed. This would be a long night.

"Ah!" said Chieki as soon as the cart stopped in front of the gates. "It's Sayuri-nee-san!"

Midorima's heart leapt out of his chest and he turned to where the child was pointing at. His eyes widened as he saw for himself. Her back was slightly turned to them, but he would recognize her anywhere—including the twins who were chatting animatedly with her.

"Nii-chan! Nii-chan! Sayuri-nee-san is here!" said Chieki as she was lifted off the cart.

"Who's Sayuri-nee-san?" asked Erika as she and Midorima got off.

"Nii-chan's girlfriend," said Chieki, already pulling Takao to greet her.

"Chi-chan, I told you she's a tutor," said Takao, letting himself be dragged by the sleeve. He nervously glanced at Midorima and Erika. "Oi, Shin-chan, we must say hi at least."

Midorima's heart was barely still.

"Onii-san?" said Erika, looking up at him expectantly.

He sighed and fixed his glasses, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. Taking Erika's hand in his, they walked to catch up with Takao and an energetic Chieki.

The twins easily spotted them and waved, Hasegawa turning in curiosity. Her eyes widened, but Midorima had barely studied her made-up face when Chieki flew straight to her to cling to the fabric of her peach floral yukata.

"Hello, Chieki," she said, bending over as she was unable to bring herself to the child's eye level on a crouch. "It's nice to see you."

"Sayuri-nee-san, did nii-chan ask you out on a date tonight?"

Hasegawa's face blanched and she glanced at Takao who was scratching his neck.

"Uh, no," she replied, gently patting Chieki's head to not ruin the up-do. "We didn't expect you'd be here, actually," she said as she straightened, looking at Takao, the twins, and Midorima, as though already piecing the puzzle together. The twins gave her a Cheshire grin.

"It's Shin-chan's birthday so the team thought to go," said Takao by way of explanation. But his attempt at salvaging the situation was futile.

Midorima should've known.

"Oh! By the way," Takao said, prying Chieki off the glaring Hasegawa, "Chi-chan, these are Hasegawa-san's friends, Yoshioka Aki and Yoshioka Natsumi. This is my sister Chieki and this is Shin-chan's, Erika-chan."

Erika, who was quietly observing, her hand still in Midorima's, was awkwardly patted on the head. "Erika-chan, this is Hasegawa Sayuri."

"It's nice to meet you," said the two children politely.

"Eh? Are you really Carrot Man's sister? You're so cute!" said one of the twins, gushing over Midorima's sister. Hearing the compliment slightly diffused the blow of the nickname.

"Chieki-chan is also cute!" said the other.

It was a lame attempt at dispelling the heavy atmosphere about them and Midorima wanted to go home, pronto.

He couldn't even meet Hasegawa's eyes. She didn't look pleased at all.

But the rest of the team arrived and they were all taken aback to see three college girls standing with them by the gates.

"Eh? Takao, Midorima, you brought dates?" asked Miyaji, already frustrated. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Captain, I didn't," said Takao. He turned to Chieki, bending down to her level. "Hey, Chi-chan, you told me you wanted to see Hasegawa-san, didn't you? Why don't you go with her?"

"Oh, Sayu! We forgot to tell you. Our boyfriends are here!" piped up the twins.

Hasegawa blanched. "You don't have boyfriends!"

"Oh, we do," said the twins before whisking away two baffled first years from the team, much to the seniors' chagrin.

Takao handed a coin purse to his sister and patted her on the head before turning to Hasegawa. "I'll leave her to your care, Hasegawa-san, Shin-chan."

Before Midorima could protest, Takao had grabbed the whole team and disappeared with them among the crowd.

He would have Takao's head after tonight.

Hasegawa started laughing awkwardly and she covered her face as she turned red. "Oh, dear," she said patting her cheeks to fight down the blush. "The twins are going to get a beating after this."

"Takao put them up to this."

Hasegawa turned to him, smiling. "No, I guess it's the other way around."

Midorima fixed his glasses. It must be true.

"So, Chieki-chan and… may I call you Erika-chan?" she said to his sister who was looking at her with mild interest.

Erika blinked. "May I call you Sayuri-nee-san?"

"Sure," Hasegawa said, smiling. It reached her eyes, and Midorima's heart did a small flip. "So, where do you girls want to go?"

"Kingyo sukui!" they answered in unison.

Hasegawa latched onto Chieki's hand and turned to Midorima, still wearing a smile on her tangerine-colored lips. "Let's go?"

Midorima released a heavy breath.

"Mom and Uncle will never have to find out," she said.

This was pushing it, but he couldn't deny that he was glad to see her again.

 


	14. Fireworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Midorima Shintarou, our Shin-chan and our Carrot Man! :) (Japan Standard Time)

 

Midorima ended up being the one to catch the goldfish. He gave one for each of the children and then they were dragged to a stall of a cork gun game. Hasegawa took up the challenge from Chieki and she won two Gudetama plushies for the girls. Midorima commented that the toys were bad influence to children; Hasegawa elected that Midorima had to carry the goldfish in the plastic bags so that children would not be _lazy_ in carrying the toys.

A ring toss stall was their next destination, and Hasegawa lost so badly against him that Erika commented, "Onii-san, you're not gentlemanly at all, are you?"

Hasegawa was beside herself with glee and Midorima could only watch her as she laughed, elation bubbling in his chest.

By the time they had gone to the sixth stall, Midorima was spent with running around, chasing the little girls who enjoyed themselves so much he would have never thought they were wearing yukata.

"Why don't we eat?" he suggested when he spotted a vacated bench next to the food stalls. It seemed they had already managed to visit all the stalls put up for the festival.

Erika and Chieki barely acknowledged him. The relief on Hasegawa's face was too obvious to miss. She plopped down on the bench and pulled the girls next to her.

"Midorima-kun," she said, looking up at him. Hearing her address him the way she did sent his heart on overdrive again. "I'll leave that to you. I'm beat."

He didn't need to hear it twice and headed for the takoyaki stall. He also ordered four bottles of mineral water, opting to buy kakigori when the children had eaten actual food, as far as actual these festival food could be.

Four trays of takoyaki balanced precariously in both of his large hands and the bottles in a plastic bag swinging from his wrist, he made his way back to the girls. Erika and Chieki tossed their toys on the far side of the bench, leaving him no choice but to sit next to Hasegawa who had dived in to save the goldfish from being sat on.

Overwhelmed by the little girls' excitement, she stood up, hands on her hips.

"Okay, kiddos, we're going to eat takoyaki and I'm not letting you soil your yukata," she said. "I'm putting away the toys properly and you're going to sit still, okay?"

The girls were prompt to obey, unbecoming of how they usually were when alone with Takao and Midorima. Hasegawa must invite a sense of authority, or maybe because she _was_ a girl. "Okay, Sayuri-nee-san."

Hasegawa took the two takoyaki trays Midorima was holding with his left hand and set them on the bench. Then she took the water bottles and handed one for each of the girls before giving his and taking hers. She deftly turned the plastic bag inside out, shaking off the moisture clinging to the now outer face, and stuffed the discarded toys inside, putting the goldfish on top. She then deposited the greatly reduced package on one end of the bench.

With more space to sit on, she instructed the girls to move over and placed their takoyaki trays and water bottles between them.

"Go on, eat," she said, taking her seat and gesturing for Midorima to follow.

He handed her share and she thanked him, picking up a takoyaki and stuffing it in her mouth without further ado. Midorima started eating, too.

"I'm sorry for your loss against Seirin," she said after swallowing. "And sorry I'm a bit late in saying that."

"It's all right." Midorima adjusted his eyeglasses, staring blankly ahead. Her arm was touching his and he could smell her perfume—was it sweet pea?

"Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"For taking care of me. Last time," she said before eating another takoyaki. "I'm sorry my mom was rude."

Midorima looked at her through the corner of his eyes. She was wearing a stony expression. "I can't blame her."

She looked at him, biting her lip. "I hope Uncle Masaaki didn't give you a hard time at practice."

"In fact, he did," said Midorima, eyebrows lifting at the memory of being forced to do the plank. He and Takao were in tears afterwards. "But it doesn't matter."

"I guess it doesn't," she said, laughing. "We're brazen enough to rebel against them, after all." She gestured to the two of them.

"It's in fact a first for me," he said truthfully. "I can't say the same about you, though."

She snorted and laughed again. "That's true. I did lots of stupid things when I was your age. Even now." Her eyes dimmed but she shrugged her shoulders, letting out a breath.

Midorima's mounting curiosity about her history with Kiyoshi and Hanamiya was like a fly he couldn't swat away but he kept himself under control. It would only spoil the warm mood. He would never openly admit it, but he liked spending time with her after avoiding each other's gazes in the stadium hallways and the streets of Tokyo.

Sometimes Midorima wondered how many times he'd passed her by on a crossroads or the central park, not knowing she existed.

She suddenly perked up. "By the way, does Uncle Masaaki plan to bring you to the training camp again?"

"In fact, he does. How do you know?"

"I was his manager for three years. Of course I'd know," she said, frowning at him for forgetting.

Midorima leaned back on the bench. "We'll be spending the first two weeks of the summer vacation in the camp."

"Maybe I can bump into you during your training," she said, a mischievous grin on her face.

Midorima narrowed his eyes. "What are you thinking?"

"Can't tell you. You'll know _if_ you see me," she said, eating her second last takoyaki. "Don't get your hopes up, though. I'm a busy person."

Perhaps Midorima had been staring dumbfounded at her after she said those words that he immediately saw the spot of sauce just above her lips.

"You have sauce on your face," he told her.

"I do?" she said, feeling for the stain.

Midorima placed a finger on his lips. "Just here."

Hasegawa tried to swipe at the stain but only managed to spread it on her cheek. Exasperated, Midorima reached for the handkerchief tucked in his belt and pressed it against the offending splotch, rubbing gently.

His thumb grazed her lips in the process, and realizing that the bandage was now stained with her tangerine lip balm, his heart raced.

Hasegawa was staring at him, eyes unblinking. He stared back, noting the way her newly-trimmed fringe fell across her forehead and the soft, brown eye shadow that she had put on. His hands retracted as soon as it occurred to him that his fingers had frozen, hovering a hairsbreadth away from her lips, and he could have sworn against fate that it wasn't make-up that colored her cheeks.

A shriek pulled him out of his trance and a takoyaki was seen rolling on the ground. Chieki's face contorted, a prelude to a wail, and Hasegawa immediately thrust the last piece of her share under the girl's nose, preventing a scene.

Midorima finished off his takoyaki and busied himself with taking their trash and volunteering to throw them away.

When he got back, making a detour to get some kakigori for the kids, Hasegawa was already helping the girls off the bench. She turned to him, all calm, and said, "The girls would like to hang their wishes."

o-o

Sayuri felt weird. She'd been tingling all over, and the slightest breath of air elicited goose bumps on the skin exposed on her nape. She had put up her hair in an elaborate knot for tonight, and the twins had a hair ornament with a lily to secure it in place.

A breeze swept past her again and she bristled. Blasted, that takoyaki sauce incident got her good.

Midorima in his silver yukata held out both hands as she struggled with the skirt of her yukata up a particularly steep part of the hill leading to the shrine. A bamboo tree stood next to it at the top, overlooking the whole park. With a moment's pause she took the offered hands, and he easily closed his long fingers around hers, pulling her up. She almost stumbled, but he caught her by the waist.

Immediately she leaned away, muttering her thanks as she passed him by to take the little girls by the hand.

Sayuri mentally cursed. She was getting all worked up over nothing. This wasn't a date. That takoyaki incident was nothing and Midorima was only being thoughtful and his usual neat freak self.

Chieki and Erika went straight for the tanzaku piled in a woven basket at the base of the tree where a crowd of wish-makers were huddled and tying theirs on the branches. The two girls came back with two tanzaku and handed a silver paper to Midorima and a peach one to Sayuri. She smiled at the children's perception.

"Do you have a wish?" she asked them.

They nodded and scribbled on the pieces of tanzaku. When they finished, they handed their markers to Sayuri and Midorima.

Sayuri had always wished for the same thing over the years—happiness. Midorima tucked his elbow on his arm and stroked his chin with his eyes closed. This elicited a small smile from Sayuri, which she immediately smothered when he opened his eyes to write his wish— _success._

"Success in what?" she asked.

"Everything I set out to do," he said, shrugging.

"Anything in particular?" she said, not satisfied.

Midorima regarded her from the corner of his eyes as they walked closer to the tree. The girls put the pens back in the holder and ran up to meet them below the canopy. The bamboo tree was tall enough that the lowest branch was a mere inch above Midorima's head, and his hair could almost blend in.

"Basketball, studies, and probably…" he said, turning to her, his emerald eyes glinting from the soft light of the lanterns that adorned the bamboo tree. "Romance."

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she felt like melting in a puddle at his feet.

Not to sound presumptuous but—

"Onii-san, Sayuri-nee-san! Let's tie them already. The fireworks should be starting soon," said Erika, growing impatient.

"Ah, right," said Sayuri, peeling her gaze off his serious face with difficulty. She looked up the branches to search for a spot to tie their tanzaku. Alas! The lowest branches were already filled. "Can you reach the higher ones, Midorima-kun?"

"If you mean by jumping or shooting a seven-year-old in the air then, in fact, yes, I can."

Sayuri openly rolled her eyes and looked down at the two girls. "Why don't one of you climb up Midorima-kun's shoulders and tie the tanzaku?" she said.

"That won't do. They'll, in fact, take forever to secure the tanzaku," said Midorima, looking up at the branches himself. "I'll lift you up instead, Hasegawa-san."

Sayuri, against her good sense, let her mouth fall agape. "A-are you sure?"

Midorima nodded his head and adjusted his glasses, pointing to a particular branch above his head, clear of any tanzaku. It seemed no one had dared use it for its height.

"O-okay, then," said Sayuri, blinking and gulping. What was she even stuttering for? She held out a hand to gather their tanzaku and Midorima stepped in front of her. He put either hand on her sides—her stomach was doing somersaults—and heaved when she gave her word.

Her inhibitions left her once half her body was airborne and Sayuri let out a small squeal as she wobbled, clinging to his mop of green hair and his shoulder. Midorima heaved again and transferred his hold around her knees and Sayuri reached out for the branch he'd been eyeing.

She tied Chieki's yellow tanzaku that said, "Good grades" just an inch from Erika's pink one. "Be the best," it said.

"Your sister seems to admire you a lot," she said, giggling.

Midorima's hold slipped as she was reaching back up to tie her tanzaku and she shrieked.

"Hasten up," he said through gritted teeth.

"I'm trying!" she said, panicked. Her fingers shook as she tied the tanzaku. She then proceeded to tie Midorima's, and the black, scrawled characters looked to almost bleed through the paper and drip on her fingers the longer she saw them. Shaking her head, she focused on knotting the string around the branch the size of a chopstick.

Success in romance?

Sayuri felt Midorima's arms slacken and she was falling on his arms, ending up clinging to his neck as he carried her bridal style. Perhaps it was her imagination, but his neck pulse was beating as rapidly as her heart did. She peeled her face off his neck and peered up at him whose green eyes had completely taken a sharp edge as he gazed back.

"You can put me down," she managed to whisper.

Midorima complied and carefully righted her and she turned her focus on the yukata she was wearing, straightening it out to distract from the overwhelming nervousness that had gripped her.

Chieki clung to her hand. "The fireworks," she reminded.

Sayuri let out a calming breath and smiled, squeezing her hand. "Let's go."

Before they could weave their way from under the canopy, however, an elderly woman holding a child's hand smiled up to them, her crow's feet growing prominent.

"You're a beautiful family," she said in a raspy voice.

Sayuri's cheeks burned and the elderly woman passed them by without waiting for a worded reaction.

Erika and Chieki started giggling, and from what little she could see of Midorima's face that were not covered by his bangs or his glinting glasses, she surmised he was as embarrassed. They silently walked to a clear area by the foot of the shrine and sat the two girls on an elevated ledge jutting out of the structure.

Sayuri calmed her racing heart and pulled the sleeve of her yukata to look at the time. Two minutes to seven.

Midorima released a breath and let his hand fall to his side. His bandaged fingers brushed her hand, and she felt a familiar chill run down her spine.

Perhaps realizing that she had started, Midorima reached for the paper fan tucked in his belt and held onto it, crossing his arms along his chest.

Sayuri kept her eyes on the sky, waiting for the fireworks. Anytime now.

"Hasegawa-san," said Midorima all of a sudden.

Sayuri furtively glanced his way. "Yes?"

"Somebody wanted to know…"

"Yes?"

His emerald eyes might as well have eaten her whole. "Do you have someone you like?"

Did she? "No." She wasn't sure. She wasn't supposed to feel like this.

Her eyes searched for a reaction in his and they only softened until they were back to the neutral shade they usually took on when he was withdrawn.

"I see."

"Do you?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"I think I do, in fact," he said, looking at her again.

Of course. He wouldn't be speaking about romance if he didn't. Her heart faltered. "I see."

"I plan to pursue her," he said, averting his eyes. "Do you know a good place to start?"

Strange. He was being too talkative. "Perhaps a confession?"

"If I confessed today, do you think I'd get lucky? The Oha Asa said Cancer is luckiest today. I also have my lucky item with me, in fact," he said, waving the fan for a bit and staring at it.

"Maybe," she answered. It was all she could manage and it wasn't entirely a lie. Her shoulders were becoming more and more difficult to bear by the minute. "Who knows?"

Silence followed the odd conversation. Sayuri could practically hear her heart drum in her ears.

The drumming was replaced with the sound of the first firework for the night—a mixture of silver and blue against the summer night sky. Sayuri watched, momentarily forgetting about the weight on her shoulders. In front of her, Chieki and Erika started clapping in fascination. She sneaked a glance at Midorima, his face turning pink as the next firework touched the sky. The pastel color touched his glasses and when they dissipated, she found out he was staring at her through his periphery.

She looked away and directed her eyes back to the sky, waiting for the next display.

A hand descended on her shoulder and she shivered, looking back up at him.

"Just now was a heart-shaped firework," he said with slight surprise in his voice. "Do you know what it means, in fact?"

Sayuri was thankful for the next fireworks—a palette of colors—that overpowered the blush she fought down. "There are seven of them for the Tanabata. They say if a couple would share a kiss at the same time one of them is lighted, they'd have enduring happiness."

_Happiness._

Midorima's hand tightened around her shoulder for a second before it left, making her feel relieved and hollow at the same time. He had his eyes closed.

Something was very off about him tonight. "Is something the matter, Midorima-kun?"

He adjusted his glasses. "Everything's _too_ auspicious." He stared at his bandaged hand. It was shaking.

"Auspicious?"

"It's the seventh of the seventh. It's my birthday. I'm number one and I have my lucky item. There are seven heart-shaped fireworks," he mumbled more to himself than to her.

Sayuri was utterly confused and yet she couldn't fight down the feeling that it had something to do with—

He adjusted his glasses and looked at her.

— _her_.

After a moment of stunned silence on her end and bated breathing on his, Midorima was suddenly taking the bandages off his fingers, letting them fall, discarded, on his feet. He fully turned to face her and held her by the shoulders.

"Sayuri—" he began just as green light from the sky began to light up his face. He stopped as though he'd said something wrong, bit his lip and looked her in the eyes again. "Sayuri," he said, this time with conviction.

All feeling left her knees. He couldn't be—?

"Sayuri," he said again, his deep voice really reaching her and tugging at her heart. Her name had never sounded so beautiful and divine.

Midorima closed his eyes, took a long breath, and peered at her after a moment.

She'd seen that look before. She'd seen it twice in her lifetime. Eyes hardened and at the same time soft, as though afraid to swallow her whole.

"Onii-san!"

Midorima and Sayuri broke their gazes and turned to the two girls they'd completely forgotten about.

"What is it, Erika?" said Midorima, an edge to his voice. Almost irked but not quite.

"The goldfish…" started Chieki. Her lower lip trembled.

Erika was pointing at the ground, where the plastic bags had tumbled and burst, punctured by less blunt rocks. The goldfish were nothing but immobile orange blobs against the dark grass, their scales glinting from the fireworks' light.

Before Chieki could announce the death of the goldfish in public, Sayuri grabbed her and pressed her face on her chest, rubbing her back up and down as she sobbed.

"Chieki-chan, it's okay," she said, turning to Erika who only stared on the ground, quietly sad. She was slightly thankful she was more… discreet.

Chieki was trembling in her arms, and Sayuri finally lamented and took her up, rocking the seven-year-old.

"Sshh, it's okay. Midorima-kun would catch one for each of you," she said, looking at Midorima. "Right?"

Midorima, who had collected the dead goldfish using his discarded bandages, only nodded. He looked extremely glum and even if Sayuri tried not to think it, he seemed to wear the expression of someone effectively thwarted.

"Saw that, Chieki-chan? Midorima-kun said he'd get one for you and Erika-chan," said Sayuri.

The weight of the child took most of the feeling in her arms. She sat on the space she previously occupied, depositing her on her lap to free one arm that she wrapped around Erika. The Midorima sister looked like she was about to cry as well.

While she felt sad for the two children, she was thankful for the distraction. She didn't look at Midorima again, trying her best to ignore the feeling that he'd been about to tell her something of gravity and with possible life-altering effects.

Instead, she coaxed the children to calm down and stare at the fireworks, even making up a story that the goldfish that die during a fireworks show would be one with the little stars in the heavens.

Erika said there weren't stars that were gold in color. Sayuri gently pointed out that the sun was a star. It elicited a laughter from Chieki, who said Sayuri got it all wrong—that the sun was not gold but yellow.

It pacified the kids. She didn't argue.

o-o

In the end, he wasn't able to spill his confession. It took a while before he realized he'd been completely caught up in the moment, in the auspicious moment of professing the feelings he'd harbored for a long while. But even with the stars aligning, Midorima could only do so much while leaving it all up to fate.

Perhaps it was for the best. Thinking about it as they descended the hill, he realized he'd momentarily forgotten his own motto, "Man proposes, God disposes." At that moment in time he was sure he'd succumbed to fate, and it could have been the gravest and most unforgivable of mistakes.

He couldn't afford to commit a mistake.

It was a certainty that Hasegawa now had a clue. He would have to go through with it some other time. But not tonight.

Secretly thanking the deities for their omniscient planning, he had managed to regain his bearings and enjoy the last remaining moments of an evening spent with the woman he adored.

Her ability to affect him to such a degree that he had plucked up the courage to tell her of his feelings—no matter how impulsive it now seemed—was still lost to him. If there was someone who could rope him in aside from the rascals he called teammates and opponents, it would be her. At least he could admit to himself as much.

However, the front gates were in sight and she had yet to speak to him. He might have made her feel uncomfortable, but he'd rather that she had an idea of his intentions than dealing with an oblivious pursuit. It would be less exasperating, and Hasegawa, of all people, was most perceptive.

Now, if only he could corner her to talk…

Takao, the twins, and the rest of the basketball team were already waving at them, and Midorima's hopes were growing dimmer and dimmer.

Perhaps today wasn't as lucky as destiny had made it out to be.

When they were three yards away, the little girls broke free of her grasp at the sight of two plastic bags of goldfish that he had called Takao to catch before they met up. It was mostly due to a hunch that Hasegawa was less inclined to go all the way back to the stalls; she looked like she was about to collapse from exhaustion.

Now ridden of two, bumbling girls, he grabbed her by the wrist and she flinched, slowly turning his way.

"Y-yes?"

Midorima fixed his glasses, trying not to look too nervous from her reaction. "I need to talk to you."

She looked over her shoulder where the rest of their companions were staring, waiting. Takao was wearing a knowing look on his face, and he nodded his head as though his permission was all they needed.

Midorima didn't wait any longer and pulled her to a secluded corner—as secluded the back of a now deserted stall could be.

He didn't meet her eyes for a few moments but maintained his hold on her wrist. He knew what he wanted to say, but the manner of letting the words out eluded him.

"Midorima-kun—"

"Let's, in fact, drop the formalities," he said, staring at her eyes that were as wide as saucers. "Call me Shintarou."

Her mouth fell open and closed a few times before a strangled noise escaped her throat. She was blushing again. "O-okay."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. His cheeks were burning as well. "In exchange, I'd like to call you Sayuri," he said.

She dropped her gaze to the ground. "Right."

"Sayuri," he said. This time, he said it with much control in his voice. She looked up at him through those long lashes, and he strained to keep his composure. "At the hilltop I wanted to tell you something."

"Y-yes...?"

"But I figured it would be, in fact, premature to leave it all to fate."

Her eyebrows met. "Yes?"

Midorima took both her hands in his. "Man proposes, God disposes. I have not proposed so what do I, in fact, leave up to God to dispose?"

She didn't say anything, the furrow in her brow growing ever deeper.

"What I mean to say is, I'm going to do this the right way." He placed both hands on her shoulders and she visibly shrank in his hold. "I'd like to take you out. On a date."

If possible, her face turned redder.

"I plan to pursue you and I'll confess to you once I'm sure I've made my intentions clear."

"Y-you're already confessing," she pointed out. "Sort of."

Midorima adjusted his glasses. "No, this is not. A confession, that is. This is a pronouncement of my intentions. I'm not going to ask you to be my girlfriend or profess my feelings to you unless I'm sure you're going to accept my confession."

"Mi—Shintarou," she said, stuttering. "I-I get it, but I'm… am I not too old for you?"

Seven years. Lucky seven. But he had to stop thinking of it in terms of luck.

"No, you're not. No one is too old or too young for love," he said. His eyes widened at the words he said and Hasegawa bit her lip, laughing as she covered her face with her hands.

He let his hands fall to the sides and inhaled so sharply that he caught a whiff of her perfume. It calmed him down.

When her laughter died down, she lowered her hands in front of her, clearly less anxious and jittery. At least now he could talk to her without being too guarded. "Are you sure you'd want to take out a twenty-four-year-old who pesters you a lot?"

"I have gotten used to it, in fact."

"My mother doesn't like you."

"She will."

"My uncle is your coach."

"This is, in fact, hardly any of his business."

"I'm a busy person."

"You've previously made sure to accommodate me and Takao despite your schedule."

"I hate your badmouthing."

"I hate your nosiness."

"Okay, then," she said, smiling. "I'll leave the rest to you."

Midorima peered at her over his glasses, his jaw clenched. "I'll inform you of the details."

She smirked at him. "Sure."

He couldn't help it. He smirked back.

"Oh," she said, clamping a hand over her mouth. "I haven't given you a gift."

"It doesn't matter," he said, if only to assuage the worry on her face. It was unnecessary, especially now that she'd given him her permission.

"Yes, it does," she said, worrying her lip.

"Pay it no mind. Let's go, the others are waiting." He turned to go back, already stepping out from the seclusion the stall offered, but a hand grabbed his wrist.

"Shintarou," Hasegawa said.

When he turned to look at her, she grabbed his face to her level and placed not one but two, soft-mouthed kisses on either cheek, letting each linger for a few seconds before she released him.

"Happy birthday," she said, smiling.

Midorima could almost hear his teammates cursing him from where they stood.

"T-thank you."

They walked back side-by-side, not touching. Hasegawa kissed both Erika and Chieki on the head and pecked Takao as well, much to their teammates' chagrin. The basketball team were heard saying, "Curse you, Takao. Curse you, Midorima."

"Goodnight. Be careful on your way home," she said to them, smiling. She turned to the twins who latched on either arm and dragged her away, already gossiping.

"Tch," said Miyaji. "I can't believe _our_ luck."

Takao smiled, clearing his throat and making an impression of Midorima's voice. "I am the luckiest today according to the Oha Asa, in fact. And I have my lucky item with me. Therefore, it's in fact a certainty that I will make a score."

Even with his attempt at joking, Midorima was able to see through the act. But he didn't try cornering Takao. It was his choice to step back.

Midorima wasn't sure if it was the positive feedback loop working at that point. He felt a cold burn at the pit of his stomach.


	15. Piano

"I'm off, mother," Midorima called from the doorstep as he finished wearing his left shoe.

Short, rapid footsteps made their way towards him and he turned to see his mother hastening to catch up before he was out the door. She stopped a few inches in front of him, reached for the collar of his shirt and smoothed it out.

"Mother, that's unnecessary," he said, lightly placing a hand on her wrist. He'd done everything to make sure this day wouldn't turn out less than perfect. Cancer was luckiest and he had his lucky item with him—a joker card, safely tucked in his back pocket.

His mother released a sigh as she relinquished her hold on him and gave him a once over, from his leather shoes to his khaki pants, and his blue plaid shirt. In hindsight, he should've known she would fuss like this, but there was no use in hiding it anyway when Erika had made sure to spill all she'd seen and heard on the night of his birthday.

"All right, then," said she, forcing a smile to hide her nerves. "Good luck, Shintarou."

She gave him an embrace that wasn't as tight as he'd feared. His mother had the good sense not to wrinkle his shirt. He turned away after giving her a brief nod and stepped out of the doorway to walk the short distance to the steel gate.

When he passed, he did a double-take, his eyes landing on the cart and Takao who was waiting with a smile on his face.

"Looking good, Shin-chan," he said, saluting him. "Hop on."

Midorima narrowed his eyes at him. "I in fact told you not to come."

"I insist," he said, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. "You need to get there in one piece, right?"

They stared at each other for a long while before he relented and climbed into the cart. Takao immediately started pedaling, whistling a song under the summer afternoon sky.

The two of them still hadn't addressed the tension that was as obvious as the forced cheeriness of his teammate and Midorima had meant to take the train so he could avoid seeing him today. But it occurred to Midorima that there was no more opportune moment to settle the rift even though it hadn't so much as put a wedge between them, much to his relief.

They still had to talk about it.

"Takao—"

"Shin-chan—"

They had talked at the same time. Midorima cleared his throat. He could almost laugh.

"You can go first," said Takao before Midorima could suggest it.

Midorima adjusted his eyeglasses. "I guess it's right to presume that you know of my intentions, in fact."

"'Course I do. You're my friend."

Midorima started.

"And I know you'll never admit that you also consider me your best bud," Takao continued, turning to the main road. "But I'm sure you feel sorry for me."

What was this? Takao said he could go first and now he didn't sound like stopping.

"News flash, Shin-chan," he said, and Midorima could almost see the smirk even while he was turned away. "I'm not some sucky asshole who'd curse his best bud because they like the same girl. 'Sides, there's no contesting it that Hasegawa-san is awfully fond of you."

Surprise was the perfect term for how he felt right now. Hasegawa? _Fond_ of him? When did that happen? He'd been under the impression that she was more… fixated on Takao. They complimented each other well. And if it only weren't for the _butterflies_ —he cringed—whenever she was around replaced with a cold, empty void when he failed to see her, he would have never known that he had developed _feelings_.

"Of course you wouldn't know that. Your E.Q. is as low as your dunking records," said Takao, laughing. "I've known you for far longer than I've known her and corny as it sounds, your companionship is more important to me than having a girlfriend."

Silence followed this confession, and while Midorima didn't know what to say, his head felt clear. It was the kind that followed a match, despite the exhaustion and muscle strain. A smile danced on his lips; he was grateful Takao couldn't see it or he'd hear relentless jibes once again. Which at that moment didn't seem too irksome, as it would only fortify the relief that came with settling things between them.

"Just don't mess up this date, okay?" said Takao as they pulled up on the steps leading to the clock tower. Hasegawa was supposed to meet Midorima in the eastward face of the clock, and Takao had pulled up from the back. He could be blissfully perceptive and considerate when he wanted to.

Midorima alighted the cart. "Thank you, Takao," he said, not quite looking him in the eyes.

Takao laughed. "Shin-chan, don't say stuff like that. I might fall in love with you," said Takao.

"Idiot!" said Midorima, affronted.

"Make sure you secure a kiss today," he said before driving past him. "Good luck!"

Midorima watched him pedaling away for a few moments, the small smile on his face. A light feeling settled in his stomach, and he shook his head, making his way towards the clock tower.

He found her standing alone a few feet from the concrete structure, typing furiously on her phone. From the exasperated expression she wore, he could only surmise it was the twins. For someone who liked to pester other people, she was one to easily get riled up by her own friends.

Midorima felt strangely satisfied by that thought alone, perhaps owning to the fact that even she had her own weaknesses. The satisfaction escalated rather quickly when she turned to him as he approached. Her lips that had been frowning as she peered at her phone immediately turned upside down, and a smile lit up her features. It was almost like _he_ was a weakness.

Takao must be right; she was awfully fond of him.

There went the annoying butterflies again. She chose to wear her hair down today, the black tresses falling in waves over her shoulders exposed from the wide straps of her beige sundress.

She walked up to him, open-toed heels clicking against the pavement. "Hi," she said, stopping a foot away. He realized she was wearing minimal make-up and her usual tangerine lip gloss.

Seeing her now, Midorima slightly regretted that he hadn't gone earlier. He'd give anything to see her walk down the path towards him as he waited for her.

He flinched at the thought. It was too _corny._

"Good afternoon," he said, adjusting his eyeglasses. "You look good."

Hasegawa didn't bother looking away as she blushed. Midorima almost delighted in that. The dating manual he'd purchased a few days ago was proving rather helpful.

"Uh, thanks. You too," she said, biting her lip. "So, where are we going?"

"I'm thinking the music museum," he said, before he caught himself. He should've asked her first! Now she would think he was imposing.

In an attempt to salvage the situation, he looked her in the eye. The manual said to keep one's gaze on your date at all times lest you wanted to give them a hint that they were unwanted. "I mean, if you'd like to."

Hasegawa cocked her head to the side, a thoughtful gleam in her dark eyes. "Hmm? You like music?"

"Classical," he said. "I play the piano."

"Wow," she said, smiling. "You look like it but not really."

The comment ticked him off. "What's that even supposed to mean, in fact?"

She shrugged. "Never mind that," she said, reaching out to grab his left hand in hers.

Midorima's heart raced. He, the _male_ , was supposed to do that!

"I like music, too," she said. "Let's go?" She squeezed his hand.

A tentative gesture, he squeezed back and nodded his head, leading the way.

o-o

Midorima held tightly on her hand even when she could feel his fingers shaking. Sayuri smiled to herself. If it had been another day, she would ask if this was his first date just to get a reaction from him. But she didn't. He was a ball of nerves as he already was and it would be best to inject some more confidence in him.

He kept her close, taking the side of the path closer to the traffic.

"Which composer do you like best?" she asked, trying to help in easing his nerves. She'd been on dates before, and she knew how it felt to be a first-timer.

Wearing heels gave her the advantage of easily seeing more of his face, especially his jaw and his cheeks. They would always get taut and red when he was caught off-guard, and Sayuri liked this expression best even when he tried to hold it in, ending up looking constipated.

She could almost laugh.

"Bach," he replied.

Sayuri was surprised. "The composer or his music?" she asked, smiling up at him.

She was soon being led to the huge front gates of the museum and the courtyard that was as lavish as the lobby, the pavement flanked by trees. She'd been here before—for field trips and once when she needed to conduct a case study.

She wasn't really into classical music. But she didn't want to dismiss Midorima's attempts and put him down. As long as she was spending the afternoon with him, she'd be glad.

Midorima turned to her as they entered through the lobby. "I guess the composer is the greater influence," he said with a hint of truthfulness.

She didn't know much about classical composers but she was a diligent student. As much as she recalled, Bach had the shortest fuse when it came to incompetence; she understood what Midorima wanted to say.

Midorima easily navigated through the empty halls. It was a bright Saturday afternoon, and the glass-paneled windows let sunlight pour into the corridors, making the polished wood shimmer. Very few people were visiting, and most of them were only there to view the glass displays of musical instruments and sheets. Midorima seemed to have other plans in mind.

When they turned left, they reached a room with oak double doors. The metal plate next to the doorframe said it all: "Piano Room".

Sayuri smiled as Midorima pushed the door open and let her in. The room was breathtaking—floor-to-ceiling windows with maroon curtains, a chandelier, and of course, a grand piano sitting at the center.

Midorima stood beside her as she took the sight in. "I usually play here when Erika wouldn't let me do so in peace in the house," he said, walking to the piano with a hand in his pockets. His fingers grazed the fall board.

She walked up towards him. "You're almost like nii-chan whenever I bothered him about basketball."

He must have been taken aback when she broached the subject—when the last time her nii-chan was in the picture had been when she was sick and having nightmares—, his fingers slightly twitching against the board.

Sayuri smiled up to him. "Play for me," she said.

"Would you like me to?" he asked, a lilt in his voice hinting that he intended to and that he was glad she'd given her permission, even in the form of a request.

"Of course," she said, nodding her head to encourage him. She stepped around him to let him sit on the bench while she looked on.

Once he was settled, he lifted the fall board to reveal the keys. "Which one would you like to hear?" he asked, looking at her.

Sayuri pursed her lips to appear to think. Then she scratched her temple, grinning at him sheepishly. "I hardly remember anything."

Midorima's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "You're not into classical music," he said as a conclusion. Looking down, he adjusted his eyeglasses and stood up from the bench, moving to close the fall board over the keys.

The forlorn look on his face induced a panic on Sayuri's end, and she flew next to him to lay a hand on the fall board before he could pull it down. Confused, he looked at her, his mouth a grim line.

"Sorry," she said, blushing a bit. "I'm more into country."

"You should've told me sooner," he said, hurt and embarrassment in his emerald eyes.

"It doesn't matter," she said, continuing to look at him. "I'd like to know more about you, Shintarou."

Midorima's lips slightly parted as he gasped, and if she'd been less sensible, she'd have granted him a kiss then and there. But she wouldn't, unless she was certain that she wanted to be with him. It was the least she could do to match his serious intentions.

He quickly recovered and averted his eyes, turning to the board. "Are you sure about this, Sayuri?"

"If you're thinking you're a bore, stop. There's never a dull moment with you, Shintarou," she said truthfully. When he stared at her again, a soft pink glow was visible on both his cheeks. Sayuri's heart soared but she reined it in and instead placed her thumb on her chin to distract from his beautiful face. "Why don't you play something to show how you feel?" she suggested.

Midorima visibly swallowed. "How I feel?"

Sayuri nodded. "Yes."

"About what?"

"Hmm," said Sayuri, pursing her lips again. "About now? What you feel now. At this moment."

Midorima looked at her for a moment before he stared down at the piano and closed his eyes. Quietly, he sank back into the bench and poised his fingers over the white keys.

"This isn't Bach," he told her.

"That's okay," she said, encouraging him.

Midorima adjusted his eyeglasses and began to play.

She was blown off her feet—his choice was fast, upbeat. His fingers almost looked like they were dancing, and for someone who looked so restrained most of the time, it was as though she was seeing a completely separate individual who was letting his agitation flow out.

The music was confounding. Sayuri had no idea what this progression or movement was called or what his technique was, but she felt it from hearing the sound. Midorima was bewildered and restless.

But then it suddenly stopped—paused. Midorima's fingers slowed, and the nippy notes left the air, replaced by music that was painfully dragged out, one key at a time, then two, and three. Until he was once again playing with both hands, but this time calm and relaxed.

It left her feeling serene.

When the last key was hit, Sayuri caught herself and opened her eyes to look at him. Surprised that she hadn't realized that she had closed them as she listened to the last movement, she blushed.

"How was it?" he asked, looking at her expectantly.

Sayuri inhaled and wracked her head for something to say. "You're… confused and agitated but at the same time tranquil?" she said as a try to gauge his sentiments.

Perhaps it was the dim lighting of the room that Sayuri thought she was imagining a small smile that had grazed his lips. Before she could confirm it, the smile immediately vanished as he stood up and silently closed the fall board over the keys.

"That's about right," he said, looking at her. The smile was once again plastered, and Sayuri's heart leapt out of her chest.

In the short time she had allowed herself to be completely mesmerized by this rare smile, Midorima had closed the distance between them.

"It's always that way with you, in fact," he told her.

Sayuri's throat had gone dry. Something warm gripped all of her, making her feel lightheaded. It was as good as a confession of his feelings, and with the words she felt like dancing. But she managed a smile, keeping her emotions at bay. "Am I going to annoy you further if I tell you it makes me happy that you feel that way?" she said, trying to dispel the erratic beating of her heart.

Midorima rolled his eyes.

"This is going to sound really selfish," she said, biting her lip. "But I hope to be the only one to have such an effect on you."

Why was she even saying this? Had she gone down _there_ already?

"That's not very fair," he said.

Sayuri opened her mouth to say some cutting remark but then she caught his meaning. "That's loaded. What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he said, shrugging. He took her hand in his and escorted her out. "Where would you like to go next?"

"Shintarou, you didn't answer my question," she said.

"It's not my fault you can't understand something so simple," he said, not turning to her.

"I hate you."

"I share the same sentiments, in fact."

Sayuri stopped him from opening the door and yanked him forcefully, grabbing his collar to plant a kiss on his cheek. He turned beet red, and she grinned toothily.

"Aw, look at you. I made you feel agitated again," she said in a sing-song voice.

Midorima glared and, impossibly, harrumphed, leaving her alone as he closed the door behind him.

"Shintarou, I was kidding!"

o-o

He had meant it. Hasegawa Sayuri said and did things that he barely understood but made him feel secure. Even though it had felt liberating to have finally told her, her efforts to taunt him about it were far too annoying.

She was truly disagreeable.

He'd left her inside the piano room in an attempt to brush off the effect of her kiss before he faced her again. Regaining his bearings whenever she was around proved more difficult recently.

When she finally caught up with him as he was about to turn the corner, glaring at every person who crossed his path, she latched onto his arm and shook it violently, coaxing him to look at her.

When he did, she frowned. "You're doing it again."

He'd heard this before. Letting go of her stranglehold on his arm, she reached out with both hands, smoothing out the wrinkle that was between his eyebrows, then tracing their arcs. Midorima would have liked to keep his face from relaxing as she wished, but it had occurred to him long ago that there was no use to resisting when she had complete rein over him.

"I'm sorry," she said, hands descending on his cheeks. She moved her thumb over his cheekbones, just below the rim of his eyeglasses. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable, Shintarou."

When he didn't say anything, she released her hold on his face and stared at her feet.

This was so lame. They always ended up stepping on each other's toes whenever they were together. And it was so pathetic that he wouldn't have it any other way.

He adjusted his eyeglasses and held out a hand. This was a date. He would try to make it count. Hasegawa looked at the hand he'd extended then at him.

"At least tell me where you'd like to go," he said. "In fact, would like to know more about you, too, Sayuri."

Her face lit up and she placed her hand in his. She peered at her wristwatch. "There's a fireworks display at the central park tonight."

"But we've gone to Tanabata," he pointed out.

"I know," she said, smiling. "But we didn't get to watch the fireworks together. Alone."

Midorima didn't understand.

Hasegawa bit her lip. "I mean, we were babysitting two seven-year-olds. We never saw the fireworks as I would've liked."

The corner of lips lifted to a smirk. "As you would've liked?"

She blushed but stood her ground. "That's where I want to go, but it's not until later. For now, let's go elsewhere," she said, dragging him out.

Midorima could almost laugh. He didn't expect her to have an ideal fireworks viewing scenario in mind and he was curious.

They ended up wandering about the district's center. She brought him to a bookstore and pointed out the books that he could read to help him with entrance tests. He countered out that it was too early to worry about them and she retorted that he could afford to be more serious about life outside basketball and the Oha Asa.

Then she pulled him inside a sportswear store, making a beeline towards the rack of basketball shoes. When asked why she brought him there, she said she was buying him a new pair as a birthday gift. He declined—his type was rather expensive—and forced her out, much to her chagrin. She instead asked which brand it was that he liked. When he didn't answer, she said she'd ask Takao. He had little confidence she'd let it go.

By the time they were having dinner at a burger joint—she insisted that they did even when he argued that this was supposed to be a _date_ and that he had wanted to bring her somewhere less simple—, Midorima was spent. She had managed to drag him everywhere, window-shopping and not buying anything. She claimed she was stingy and she didn't want him to spend too much on their first date. At least except for the food—she had ordered the biggest burger.

They ventured out again at around seven in the evening, and they managed to find an empty bench by the central park fountains. Looking around, Midorima realized they were surrounded by couples, and the ground opened up to eat him along with his glaring self-consciousness. That was saying something when none of them paid him and his date any mind, busy in their own bubbles.

Hasegawa must have noticed that he'd been looking everywhere but her for she turned to him with a mischievous grin on her face. "You can put your arm around me."

"I'm not doing that," he said. There was no feeling of privacy even when they had monopolized a bench for themselves.

She chuckled, taking his arm. He tried to yank it away but she was stronger than he gave her credit for. Succumbing to her wishes, he put an arm around her. His hand dangled awkwardly from his wrist, and she pulled at it to let it settle on her upper arm.

And as though it was not enough torture, she leaned on his chest, resting her head on the crook of his neck. She took his free right hand in hers and interlaced their fingers. His heart was drumming wildly against his ribs.

Her shampoo—honeysuckle—and sweet pea perfume wafted through the immediate air surrounding them, and he surreptitiously inhaled her scent as it lingered. It had a strange but welcome effect—he closed his eyes and relaxed, letting his chin nuzzle her hair.

He was sure he was smiling and he allowed it to stay.

"Thank you, Shintarou," said Hasegawa.

It never struck him how sweet her voice really was in her most quiet. Uttering his name in that voice brought with it a different sense of belonging and he wished to hear her say it again and again in this manner.

"Shintarou," she said, and it sounded like the whoosh of the net when he sank a three-pointer—like _winning._ "Is it too much to ask that we stay this way until after the show?"

Midorima opened his eyes and moved them to look at her. It was no use; he couldn't see anything except for their clasped hands resting on her lap.

"No," he said, gently squeezing her arm.

"Thank you." Her breath fanned against the exposed skin of his neck, warm and soft. He could stay like this.

He squeezed her again. The contentment he felt at that moment seemed to be unparalleled.

Not even by the fireworks. But he acknowledged that indeed, there was something special about watching them together with just the two of them in each other's arms.

Midorima never thought he would ever feel this way. There was always the satisfaction in rising above others—basketball or academics, even in playing the piano that his parents had insisted on when he was younger.

But his satisfaction, in Hasegawa Sayuri's presence, it was… special.

"Let's go jogging tomorrow," she said. Midorima happily agreed.

 


	16. Snap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains possible spoilers of EXTRA GAME, including possibly offensive views and opinions that do not reflect that of the author. Please proceed with precaution and please bear in mind that I harbor no ill feeling towards any race. Thank you.

By the end of summer vacation, when everyone had gotten back from the training camp, Midorima landed a spot in the "High School Dream Team" that Aida Kagetora had thrown together in an attempt to put the American streetball players ridiculously named Jabberwock in their rightful place.

To say that he was irked by the jabs the team had casually dropped after the exhibition match against their upperclassmen was understating how he felt. It was an outrage, and even if he was less willing to work with his middle school teammates and Kagami, he couldn't pass up the offer of crushing racist chauvinists.

But then Kuroko pulled off his usual nosy, ninja-esque technique of sneaking up on people and actually had the gall to tag along Aida Kagetora all the way to a cabaret to get in a word with the rude rats who called Japanese basketball players monkeys. Effectively, he incurred wrath and a split lip from the confrontation with the entitled idiots.

And so they were stuck in a restaurant in the middle of Roppongi at eight in the evening. The eldest of the group had suggested that they blew off the steam from the heated standoff and eat out the night before the match. Kagami and Aomine had been initially against the idea—this being one of the rare instances that they had agreed on something—, both adamant that they were too outraged for Kuroko to have the appetite to eat anything. "On the house" was all it took before Aomine said that anger could be abated by consuming expensive steak. Kagami managed a guilty nod, and Kuroko almost smiled.

At a corner of their table, flanked by Kagami and Aomine, Kuroko was nursing his blasted lip, a glass of ice pressed on his face.

Midorima didn't even feel like eating mainly due to his pent-up rage. He was even more aggravated by how Aomine, Murasakibara, and Kagami were able to wolf down their steaks while Kise and Akashi picked at their food like he did. A loaded silence had descended on their group of teenagers and a middle-aged uncle, and no one dared to break the charged calm that followed the bar scuffle.

"Shintarou?"

Midorima almost dropped his fork. Everyone seemed to have heard the steady female voice, and as one, their group of males turned to look towards the source—standing in the middle of the restaurant in a white pantsuit.

The sight of her almost took him aback as a memory two weeks old—he hadn't seen her since due to her tight schedule—, one where she wore a two-piece swimsuit and "bumped into" their team during the training camp for one blissful, reckless moment, resurfaced. Midorima was not surprised that his cheeks had heated up, an unfamiliar feeling engulfing the whole of his chest that the groan that had escaped him then sounded too unlikely his. The coach had chased her and her twin friends away with a basketball flying in the air and that was the last of her that he saw for the rest of summer vacation.

Hasegawa Sayuri seemed to have been rooted to the spot just below the chandelier, a handbag slung over her shoulder and legs stretched in a manner suggestive that she was in a hurry to exit the establishment. The shadows that lined her face as she stood against the light made her look more foreboding than she would on a normal day.

"Sayuri?"

"Hah?" Murasakibara drawled out as he shoved more meat into his mouth. "Who's that, Mido-chin?"

Hasegawa backtracked from her hasty exit stance and marched off towards their table in the far corner of the dimly-lit restaurant, face the picture of a sullen adult now that the shadows had gone, the heels of her black stilettos clacking against the marble floor.

"What on Earth are you, a seventeen-year-old, doing at this hour in Roppongi?" she said, stopping next to Akashi's chair, her eyes zeroing in on him, hands on her hips.

The rest of the table occupants turned to him then back to her.

Hasegawa's inquisitive gaze faltered and she wrinkled her nose. "I smell blood."

"That would be Kuroko," said Midorima.

" _Kuroko-kun?"_

Midorima turned towards the end of the table where Kuroko was seated. The blue-haired Seirin player was still quite out of it after what had happened. Hasegawa all but shrieked and clamped a hand over her mouth. She flew to the Aquarius' side, shoving Kagami off his chair and throwing her bag on the floor as she tilted Kuroko's face towards her.

"You blasted your lip? What happened?" she said, worry creasing her face. Midorima almost felt jealous. Almost; it was natural for her to fret over an injury so minimal.

Kagami transferred to the empty chair next to Aomine and said, "Got into a fight, obviously, Hasegawa-san." He pulled his plate in front of him.

"But Kuroko would never—" Hasegawa narrowed her eyes as she spotted the old man seated at the opposite end of the table. "Kagetora-san, of course." Hasegawa's lips turned so thin they were a mere line on her face.

"Sayuri-chan, don't give me that," he said, waving his hands in front of him. "It was beyond my control."

"How is it beyond your control?" she said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips again. "And how did a bunch of children end up with you at this place? At this hour?"

"Sayuri, you're being too loud," said Midorima, frustrated. She instead redirected her glare towards him.

"Well, care to explain how my teddy bear got his ass handed to him?"

"Don't put it that way, Hasegawa-san, please," said Kuroko in a despondent voice.

Hasegawa immediately apologized, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

Midorima adjusted his eyeglasses, trying in vain to keep his patience in check. "I'm sure you remember that we're having a match against the Jabberwock tomorrow."

"Of course I do. That is why the Generation of Miracles are—" she caught herself, as though for the first time realizing that she had eight pairs of eyes with looks alike to that of children on an exhibit and she was some weird specimen of human being. She turned beet red. "I haven't introduced myself, have I?"

"No," said Aida. "How lame, Sayuri-chan."

"Shut up, old man! Riko and Uncle Masaaki are _so_ going to hear about this," she said, which effectively diffused the old man. "Hi, everyone. I'm Hasegawa Sayuri. Nice to meet you," she said belatedly with a smile and a bow.

Kise effectively broke the awkward atmosphere and waved a hand at her. He was about to open his mouth when Hasegawa held up a hand to stop him. Dismissed wasn't enough to describe how Kise looked.

"Yes, of course I know all of you," she said by way of explanation, smiling. "I've been seeing you in the tournaments since last year."

When they turned in inquiry to Midorima, he explained that she was a medical student volunteer.

"I see. That's why you look very familiar," said Akashi, offering a small smile to the sole female in the table. "I remember one incident where Mibuchi-san got into a scuffle with a volunteer for his being too obnoxious."

"He hates me. Told me I was ugly and didn't want me to touch him," she said, shrugging.

"I apologize for his behavior," said Akashi.

Hasegawa waved a hand, not at all affected. "It doesn't matter. I figured he swings the other way."

Her pronouncement elicited varied reactions from the group, but mostly confusion. Akashi only smirked, throwing a knowing look at Midorima.

Midorima spoke to her. "More importantly, what are you doing here?"

"Excuse you," she said, easily recovering. "I'm an adult and I can do whatever I want on a Friday night."

Midorima glared.

"Kidding," she said, bending over and fishing out a sheaf of dog-eared papers from the handbag she'd discarded on the floor. "I'm doing a case study on sex workers in different red-light districts. I was finishing up here and next week I'm bound for Kabukicho—"

"Are you out of your mind? Why would you choose to conduct a case study in such places?" Midorima yelled. He couldn't help it. She was a walking disaster and a lunatic. Why did he even take a liking to her?

Some other customers had already turned to their little party, expressions ranging from curious and irritated.

"I don't want to hear that from you," she said, dismissing his worries with thinned lips.

"Where do you study, Hasegawa-san?" asked Akashi, his interest now piqued.

Hasegawa turned to him, sinking into the chair that she had managed to back against the wall previously. "Tokyo University. I'm graduating in March."

"Ah!" Murasakibara interjected, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, easily cutting off the others' reactions as though he _were_ going to say something profound. "Mido-chin wants to be a doctor, too. Are you Mido-chin's girlfriend?" Apparently, profound was expecting too much from the child inside a giant's body.

Her face fell.

"She's not," said Midorima as the woman broke into a sweat. "Yet."

Kise blinked, Murasakibara paused, Kagami choked, and Kuroko continued to stare blankly. Aida was laughing, clapping his hands. Akashi's eyebrows were very daintily lifted.

"Eh? Midorima, I never thought you had it in you!" said Aomine, saluting him with a wry smile on his face.

"You have quite impeccable taste," said Akashi, smirking at him.

Hasegawa released a heavy breath and turned to Kuroko, giving him a once over. "Anyway, since I'm here, I might as well tend to this baby boy," she said, rummaging through her bag and tossing an empty ice pack to the other end of the table. "Kagetora-san, make yourself useful. Get me some more ice for that."

"Would you like a drink?"

She lifted narrowed eyes at him. "How about I punch you?"

"Young lady, you're so violent," he said, waving over a waiter.

She took out a pen and clicked it, pulling down Kuroko's lower eyelids as she shined the flashlight on his eyes. Putting away the glass of melted ice he'd been holding, she said to him, "Open your mouth."

Kuroko complied and Hasegawa briefly examined the inside of his mouth. When she clicked the pen light off, she turned back to Aida. "I changed my mind. I'd like some of your whiskey. No ice."

All the teenagers were taken aback—the piece of meat that Midorima was about to eat bounced back on his plate, and suddenly all appetite fled. Aida only snickered and unscrewed the bottle of the pure liquid, the fizz echoing through the anticipative silence as he poured her the drink. He reached over to place it in front of her and—to everyone's utter surprise—she handed it over to Kuroko.

Kagami, for once, stopped eating. "Hasegawa-san, what are you—"

"Don't swallow, Kuroko-kun, just wash then spit it back," she said, not paying their shock any mind.

Kuroko said nothing else and did as he was told, flinching at the sting of alcohol. After a moment, he spit the bubbly liquid back into the glass, and Midorima could've sworn there was coagulated blood that swirled with the liquor. Hasegawa didn't excuse her lack of consideration for the people dining on the table.

"Water, Kagami-kun," said Hasegawa. Kagami promptly followed and pushed the glass in Kuroko's hands who gladly downed it in one gulp, asking for another.

"Okay, open your mouth again," Hasegawa said. This time, she smiled after finishing. "That should heal up nicely," she said, patting the sixth man on the head.

Midorima had no idea what she found there, but he was certain the use of whiskey as antiseptic wasn't merely for show. He couldn't believe Kuroko kept quiet. It was almost as if he _knew_ they would bump into a doctor in the making and was only waiting for her to heal him.

Aida finished preparing the ice pack and Hasegawa pressed it against Kuroko's blasted lip. She then turned back to her bag and fished out a small wad of cotton and a bottle of tincture of iodine.

"She's not prepared at all, is she?" Midorima heard Aomine whispering to Kagami. The redhead shrugged, speechless himself.

"Honestly, Kagetora-san, how did you not spot this?" Hasegawa said, exasperated. She had lifted Kuroko's arm, showing the small cut just above his elbow. "And—is that a shard of glass?"

Kagami and Aomine gritted their teeth, leaning in to see. Hasegawa tut-tutted, taking out her pen light and asking Aomine to shine it on as she examined the wound. In an instant, she was producing a pair of tweezers and a pair of gloves she rubbed with alcohol.

Akashi was watching with mounting interest, his chin cradled in his palm. "What a find," he told Midorima, throwing him a sidelong glance. It almost sounded like he approved.

At that time, Midorima could only worry that the customers must think they had walked into a gathering of eccentric people. If they did, they couldn't be any closer to the truth.

Hasegawa was making a mountain out of a molehill, as the shard turned out to be as large as a grain of rice. Murasakibara pointed this out as soon as she had patched the wound, and she proceeded to lecture him on the damage that possible contaminants from the most minuscule of foreign objects could bring to a human body.

Kise was helping himself from laughing the whole time and Aomine ended up playing with the pen light, pretending it was a light saber and slashing at Kagami. Hasegawa hissed at them and snatched the pen light away, stuffing it back into her bag along with the trash she wrapped in a Ziplock.

"Ah!" said Kise, slightly jumping from his seat. His made-up eyes narrowed, directed towards the portion of the street that they could see through the glass windows.

The Jabberwock were walking outside, laughing at something probably as sick as they were. _Of course_ they had to see them again.

"Are those the culprits?" asked Hasegawa.

"You got it," said Aomine through gritted teeth.

"Let me guess. Apart from beating up my baby boy, they made fun of your English," she said, standing up from her seat, almost upsetting the chair that scraped against the marble floor.

"Sayuri, what are you doing?" said Midorima as she started for the door.

"I'll have a word with them," she said before she strode out.

"Oi!"

She wasn't hearing any of it, and all of them were suddenly vacating the table to catch up with her. Aida yelled for the waiter to settle the bill. Akashi pried Murasakibara off his seat, tugging at his sleeve with a stern glint to his eyes.

Hasegawa wrenched the door open before the marshals could and jogged on the pavement, straightening her suit jacket and pulling her hair out of its bun. It fell on her back in waves, and Midorima quickened his run.

But Akashi was suddenly in front of him, holding up an arm to stop their advance. "Let her."

"Akashi, let me through—"

 _"Scuse!"_ Hasegawa was heard saying, acting all girly and feminine, her bag hanging on the crook her elbow as she scurried to catch up with the giant players. _"Scuse, segnori!"_

Midorima's jaw fell open as Aomine doubled over with laughter.

"What's she saying?" asked Murasakibara, chewing on one of the flatbreads he plucked off the basket before they could fully exit the restaurant.

"It sounds… Italian," said Akashi, amusement dancing on his lips.

The captain of Jabberwock, Nash Gold Jr., paused and turned his head to look at her. His teammates followed.

Hasegawa clapped her hands. _"Ah, grazie mille! Buona notte, segnori. Sei italiano?"_

"Huh?" said another player, dumbfounded.

 _"Scuse, pero parli italiano?"_ Hasegawa continued, in perfect imitation of the accent. Midorima could only stare at her as she cocked her head to the side, affecting a look of honest excitement at _mistakenly_ meeting Italians.

"She's crazy," said Kagami.

 _"No?"_ she said, still in Italian. _"Dai dai, idiota."_ She clapped a hand on her forehead _. "Lo siento, señor. ¿Es usted español? ¿Hablas español?"_

The Americans continued to stare at her, their mouths agape.

_"No? Que diriez-vous français? Parlez-vous français?"_

"She also speaks French. How impressive," Akashi said, his eyes lighting up. Midorima was jealous of his ease.

When the Americans still didn't answer, she bit her lip, the face of panic. _"Non? Deutsche?"_ she said, gesturing with her hands. _"Nein? Nederlands?"_ The tallest and darkest of the group, Silver, took a step closer and Hasegawa stood her ground _. "Ah! Afrikaners?"_

"I'm not African," said the center, staring down at her. "Whatcha tryna pull at?"

Hasegawa deliberately shrank and teetered backwards, catching herself. "Oh! Sorry I thought _he_ was Italian. Or was it that I thought you speak Italian?" she said in flawless English, gesturing to the blonde captain whose jaw was now clenched, staring her down like she was an eyesore. "So you speak English then?"

"Yeah," said Silver. "And you're Japanese, I see. So whatcha speaking in different tongues for?"

Hasegawa forced a shy smile and rocked on the balls of her feet. Midorima could only cover his face with a hand as the group inched further into the shadows in an attempt to remain inconspicuous despite their blinding mirth.

"Sorry, it was an honest mistake. It seemed I overestimated your intelligence," she said.

"Whatcha mean by that?"

All of a sudden, she straightened up and thrust her chin into the air, her arms crossed over her chest. "Okay, let me get this straight, sires. You're the Jabberwock, aren't you?"

"So what if we are? Ya gonna throw yourself at us?" said Silver, advancing towards her.

"No, I'm not that cheap, you entitled chump," she said. "I just wanted to have a word with you."

Nash stepped up and yanked Silver back by the shoulder. "Who're ya and why're ya wastin' our time?"

Hasegawa placed a hand on her clavicle, offended. "Is that what you always say to people who go out of their way just to make it clear to you that you're a bunch of stuck-up jerks?" she said in rapid-fire English.

"You—"

She lifted a finger, wagging it at the tall man. "Excuse you. It's basic decency to let a person finish what they have to say before you butt in. We're in the middle of a street and I'm sure cops on patrol would hear me if I so much as screamed that you're assaulting me. They have guns, by the way. And you don't."

The streetball players stared at her like she was insane.

"Perfect!" she said, clapping her hands. "That's more like it. We Japanese practice politeness all the time and you know what they say. When in Rome, do as the Romans do." She smiled sweetly at them. "Now that I have your undivided attention, let me just say this." She gestured with her hand, snapping her fingers as she traced a Z in the air, her head moving left and right.

Kise lost it. "Oh no, she didn't," he said in English.

"She just did," said Kagami in the same language, looking forlorn.

"What?" asked Aomine.

"The Z snap," said Kise and Kagami together, imitating the _snap_ in perfect synchrony.

"The hell is that?"

"Ask Momocchi."

"I doubt Momoi would know what it is," said Akashi, shushing them.

"Neither would Riko-tan," said Aida.

Midorima shook his head.

Hasegawa was speaking again. "News flash, dimwits. English is a language, not a measure of intelligence."

Midorima couldn't believe she started with that.

"And so is Italian, Spanish, French, German, and Dutch. And Japanese. Unless you can speak all of them, then I'd gloss over the fact that you laugh at how most of us speak _your_ mother tongue. Shame we're too polite to return the favor when you can't speak lick of _ours_ ," said Hasegawa. "Moreover, I can't stand how disrespectful you are of this foreign land's citizens and culture when you're a mere bunch of tourists— _outsiders_."

"So what if we are?"

"Listen, I'm a lady and I try to act as lady-like as much as I can, but I'm not letting this pass." She jabbed a finger towards Nash's face. "It's a fucking dick move to mock my baby boy's English just because you were fucking born in an English-speaking country."

Even Midorima was floored by the string of curses that sounded way harsher than when Hasegawa occasionally cursed in the native tongue.

"Baby boy? That runt earlier?"

"Ah, so you _are_ sharp," she said, nodding her head before snapping again. "That runt you speak of just happens to be my baby boy and you fucking wounded not only his pride but his fucking elbow and mouth! I had to patch him up while he was fucking bleeding because you fucking picked a fight without him asking!"

"Did I hear that right? Physical wounds over wounded pride?" said Kise, blinking at Midorima.

"Must be the doctor in her speaking," said Aomine, amused.

Nash rolled his eyes. "Listen, missie, he brought that upon himself."

"Not hearing that from you, you asshat. I'm sure you fucking started it!" Hasegawa hissed. "I know my baby boy and he wouldn't come barging in on you while you sleazeballs fucked in a cabaret. You fucking insulted the whole Japanese basketball population and called us monkeys!"

Silver groaned. "So what? Y'all fuckin' monkeys."

"And you're all fucking gorillas!" she yelled. "With apocrine glands aplenty you smell like them even when you take your shower."

"Whatcha—"

"What? You didn't understand? Apocrine glands are the protein glands in your skin. Oh, you still don't get it? I thought you spoke English. I thought you were smart because you speak it. So why are you giving me that look like a fucking idiot?"

Hasegawa had hit a nerve and she must have figured as much for she casually turned around and started her retreat, but unrelenting in her taunts.

"Oh, man. I wasted my time talking to you. I'm sure as hell you won't even get it even if you toss in your sleep." She turned around to face them once more when she was a safe distance from them—safe enough to make a fast break. "And by the way," she said, now taking on the funny accent that the streetball players had, "yo momma must be so huge when she had ya that they hauled her friggin' ass usin' a crane to take her to the hospital while she labored to get ya fugly baby gorilla outta her hole."

Silver's eyes glinted with a murderous intent.

"Murasakibara," said Akashi. The purple-haired giant rubbed his palms together and sprinted away, galloping towards Hasegawa.

"Betcha they had to tear her a new one to get ya fugly ass out," said Hasegawa with a huge smirk before she was thrown over Murasakibara's shoulder. She shrieked and Murasakibara began turning around just as their whole group dashed from the site.

 _"Lul. Estúpido. Connard. Idiotas! Hijos de puta! Bastardi! Bâtards! Klootzakken! Stronzo!"_ Hasegawa was yelling, not yet satisfied. "You're going to get your asses handed to you tomorrow, I swear to God!"

She was still muttering obscenities in different tongues under her breath long after they had rounded the corner, only shutting up when Murasakibara put her down and shoved a piece of Maiubo in her mouth. Even though Midorima found it bothersome, he was grateful for the silence.

They stopped at a narrow alleyway to catch their breaths. Hasegawa leaned on the drywall, chewing the Maiubo and glaring at the dirt path. It was the first time Midorima had seen her this baleful, and somewhere at the back of his mind, he wondered if she had ever stood up for somebody else the way she did for them just now— _somebody_ having two possible identities: Kiyoshi Teppei and Hanamiya Makoto.

"You're nuts, Hasegawa," said Aomine, still laughing.

"How did you learn that many languages?" asked Kise. "I'm a model and I can barely speak English without an accent."

"Being a model doesn't guarantee you proficiency in English, Kise," said Kagami, irked.

"Being American doesn't guarantee you a good grade in English, Kagami-kun," said Kuroko.

Hasegawa shrugged. "Scientific terms are mostly Greek or Latin in origin so it's a bit of an advantage to be familiar with one European language or two," she said, finishing the Mauibo. "The languages themselves are quite similar so it's not that difficult, really."

"But African?" said Kagami.

"Don't speak it. I knew they would react so I mentioned it. Three of them are African-American after all. The only thing I regret is I didn't get to try my pig Latin," said Hasegawa, pursing her lips in mock exasperation. "I wonder if their pea-sized brains would get that."

"Sayuri," said Midorima, finally getting a word in. "That was unnecessarily dangerous."

"I know," she said, rolling her eyes. "But I couldn't help it. They insulted an entire nation. I'll have to gurgle several times later, though. That swearing just now could last me a lifetime."

"What's bastard again in Spanish?" asked Aomine.

 _"Hijo de puta,"_ she said. "Don't make me say that again."

"I'm saving that for future reference. And you were hilarious," said Aomine, swinging an arm to drape around her shoulders as they continued their way to the train station. "Hasegawa, you're flat as a board but I appreciate your daring more than Midorima does. What do you say I take you out?"

Midorima repressed the urge to wring Aomine's neck.

Hasegawa chortled and scooted to slip out of Aomine's hold and grabbed Midorima's hand, interlacing their fingers.

"Sorry, he still owes me six dates," she said, leaning into his arm. "But I'll consider. Perhaps when I'm done with him."

"Sayuri…"

"Shitting with you," she said, smiling. "I'll come watch tomorrow. Am I forgiven?"

Midorima adjusted his eyeglasses and didn't answer.

"You've got a weird girlfriend, Mido-chin," said Murasakibara, eating the last of his Mauibo bars. "But I like her guts."

"Hasegawa-san, I'm interested in you," said Akashi. When she and Midorima turned to him, he waved a hand to amend. "Not in the manner you suppose."

"Don't say things like that so offhandedly, Akashicchi," said Kise. "We all know how popular you are with girls. Midorimacchi hates you more for it."

"If you expect Akashi-kun to dismiss that and say you're more popular, you're not doing it right, Kise-kun," muttered Kuroko.

"So mean," said Kise, putting on his usual crying face.

"You have interesting friends, Shintarou," she murmured, squeezing his hand once.

"They're a handful."

"I agree."

" _You_ are a handful."

"But you are, too."

"Do you always flirt this way?" Kagami said.

"Kagami-kun, you have not a single idea how to handle girls, so it's best not to comment on Midorima-kun's methods."

"You better be thankful you've had enough beating tonight, Kuroko."

Perhaps drained from the encounter, Hasegawa fell asleep on the train, her head resting on his shoulder. Kuroko and Kise suggested that he put his arm around her and Aomine and Akashi exchanged meaningful glances when he heeded their advice.

When they got off their station, she inquired after the others' lodging, worried that they were still a ways off when her apartment was a ten-minute walk. His teammates politely declined her offer and she relented. However, she didn't let them go without embracing each of them. It surprised them still, especially Murasakibara whom she pecked on the cheek and called her savior.

He handed her a piece of candy he'd dug up in his pocket in exchange and decided to call her Hase-chin. Kise almost inevitably followed and asked her if she would let him address her as Hasegawacchi from that point on. She gave him a smile and nodded.

She gave a bed of painkillers to Kuroko and kissed him on top of the head before letting him go. Akashi was the last to say goodnight: "I never had an elder sister. Could I call you Hasegawa-nee?" Hasegawa was beside herself with glee.

He walked her to her gate and she placed one kiss on each of his cheeks before she whispered goodnight and let go of his hand.

Midorima was smiling as he continued on his way home.

His bubble burst when he remembered the severe look in her eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not going to justify Sayuri's behavior, Midorima's thought trains, and everyone else's stance in front of the Jabberwock. But let it be known that the streetball players were no angels. EXTRA GAME is proof of that, and I highly encourage you to read the short sequel if you haven't, as it sort of, in the loosest meaning of that phrase, offers an objective viewpoint to see where the characters mentioned in this chapter are coming from. And let it be known that this isn't generalizing the American population or any race for that matter. A rotten tomato shouldn't spoil the good ones. The ire is received solely and only by the Jabberwock as they're assholes. Peace, American friends. I love you all. :)
> 
> Also, I had to rely on Google translate for the European sentences as I have very minimal background on the languages (huhu) so yeah, please don't kill me. I love you. :)


	17. Darts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains possible spoilers of EXTRA GAME, including possibly offensive views and opinions that do not reflect that of the author. Please proceed with precaution and please bear in mind that I harbor no ill feeling towards any race. Thank you.

 

"You sure showed them, Knight-kun," said Sayuri as she wrapped the center's wrist with bandage. "That Silver was just so pathetic he had no other choice but to play rough against you."

Watching the match had put Sayuri on the spot, all tingly and shaking. The Jabberwock just managed to bench Kise and Murasakibara after the former went all-out with his Perfect Copy and Zone while the latter broke his wrist after bracing himself from falling right when he gave the gorilla a facial. She had to shoulder past the crowd on her way from the bleachers where she'd been sitting with the Seirin seniors to help with patching up her knight.

Murasakibara didn't seem to mind his injury. Sweating and out of gas, he was watching the last minutes of the fourth quarter with his laidback demeanor all gone and replaced by focus that was so intense Sayuri would shiver from merely sitting next to him. Kuroko had subbed him, and even though the smaller boy was less beastly about it, she was sure he was about to throw the rascals down. Her admiration of the boys were beyond any descriptive device.

She gently let go of Murasakibara's left hand and settled it on his knee. He gave her a smile, one so small she might as well have only imagined it.

Spirit probably does wonders when it meets with prodigies, for when Sayuri almost thought the Vorpal Swords was done for, Akashi tipped the ball out of Nash's huge hands and sent it flying to Midorima who was open on the outside. He immediately sank a three, and the bench and bleachers went wild. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her eyes stung with tears.

Kuroko delivered the final swing after stealing the ball from Nash who stalled the last play by passing and _just_ passing, and Kagami and Aomine, a destructive combo in the paint, dunked the fatal blow at the last second. She shot up on her seat as the others did, and gathered both Satsuki and Riko in her arms, all three of them crying in joy.

The boys looked so happy as they pumped their fists in the air at their victory while the stuck-up Silver roared in rage over a bitter defeat. Spectating their celebration, Sayuri was transported back to her managing days—days of unadulterated, honest joy—, and it effectively brought more tears falling from her eyes. Sayuri belatedly realized that the Vorpal Swords comprised of seven teenage boys, and she smiled on, thinking they were in fact the Magic Seven.

The whole group gathered at the nearest Maji Burger branch to eat out, and with their large number easily monopolized the restaurant. Everyone was in a jovial mood, even the boy sitting next to her. She could've sworn she'd never been this excited sitting in a table with a bunch of teenagers, and for the first time in months she felt truly a twenty-four-year-old.

"Hase-chin," said Murasakibara who was sitting on the other side of her. He lifted his hand and Sayuri sighed upon the sight of the bandage that had already come off, dangling languidly from his huge hand.

"Come here, Knight-kun," she said, taking the hand gently to fix the bandage. "I told you not to eat with it."

"But that's impossible," he said, drawling the words out like he usually did, too lazy to speak more clearly with the chunks of burger in his mouth. He was a noisy eater, munching and munching away like a chipmunk would. Sayuri was left to wonder how this giant child was the same fearsome force back in the court. Sweeping a glance to the occupants of the table, she wondered how these boys, honestly teenage in the strictest sense of the word, could assume the passionate personas she had come to admire even more.

"You want me to unwrap the burgers for you, then?" she said, eyeing the two piles of burgers in front of him. It didn't really surprise her, given the fact that Kagami was eating just about as many some seats down from where they were.

"Hase-chin's so kind," he said. He reached out with his good hand to pluck off a burger from the mountain that had been greatly reduced in height and placed it in front of her. "That's yours."

"Aw, you're so sweet," she said, grinning up at him and pinching him on the cheek. "I'll unwrap the burgers for you, okay?"

Midorima cleared his throat as Sayuri began her self-imposed task of babysitting the giant. "Don't let him get used to that kind of treatment, Sayuri."

Takao was laughing. "Ah, Shin-chan's jealous."

"I don't need you to point that out, Takao," he bit back.

Sayuri was not embarrassed that she had blushed from his affirmation of jealousy. "Want me to feed you, Shintarou?" she said, teasing.

Midorima only glared.

"Hasegawa-nee," said Akashi, smiling at her. "Thank you for helping us with Murasakibara."

She smiled in return, warmth dancing in her stomach at being addressed so gently. "No biggie, dear."

"It's anything but that, Hasegawa-nee. I'm thankful we came across you on this trip."

"Oh, you flatter me too much, Akashi-kun. Stop it," she said, openly blushing. The boy was too cute to be true.

"Akashicchi, Midorimacchi looks like he's going to crush you," said Kise.

"Does he?" said Akashi, smirking.

"Akashi, don't even get started," said Midorima, gritting his teeth. Even if she denied it, Sayuri found it a pleasure to see him all worked up.

When he didn't drop the grouchy face he was pulling even after Akashi had engaged Kise in a chat, Sayuri pulled him down by the collar. His cheeks burned red when she placed a chaste kiss on his jaw, just below the corner of his lips. When she pulled away, the kiss made a smacking sound and everyone turned to them like they had seen a ghost.

"Gross," said Kagami between bites.

"Tch, I'm actually jealous," said Aomine. "Hasegawa, gimme a kiss."

"Dai-chan!" said Satsuki, throwing a spoon at him. She easily hit the ace player on the face.

Sayuri was laughing.

Their group of about twenty people exited the burger joint, full and content, and started for the train station. Sayuri lagged behind with the other girls, chatting about their plans for the Winter Cup. All was well and they watched the boys horsing around, until an arm descended on her shoulder.

She reeled from the strong body odor and Riko and Satsuki froze on their spots as Sayuri wriggled free, whipping around to come face-to-face with Jason Silver and the rest of the Jabberwock—no, they were missing one Nash Gold, Jr. _Did he let them off or did they beat him up?_

"You!" she said, backing away and shielding the two younger ladies from the five giants. "What're you getting all chummy for?" she yelled in English.

The noise from the lot of teenage boys ahead of them died down in an instant, as though someone had hit the mute button on their remote, and they all turned around, surprised to see the team that the Volpar Swords just destroyed, missing their captain.

"Oi, gorilla, what're you doing here?" said Kagami, already retracing their footsteps to stand guard with the rest of the throng.

"Shut it, you fuckin' monkey," said Silver. He bared his huge teeth at Sayuri who didn't do so much as flinch. "I came here to take home missie."

Sayuri would've melted in a puddle upon hearing those words—if they came from Midorima. Or Akashi, perhaps (she smothered the idea). She rolled her eyes at the reflected mental image of her. Steeling herself, she stood her ground and stroked her chin.

"Didn't I make it clear last night? I'm not cheap," she said, glowering up at him, slightly thankful she'd been wearing heels more often these days. It was a toil to have a six-footer suitor and she didn't like feeling small. She was proud that way. "You're not my type. I don't date losers."

Satsuki and Riko gave her blank looks. Snorts and chortles were heard from the boys.

"I ain't takin' no for an answer," said Silver, taking another step towards her, practically half a foot away. His stench almost made her want to puke her lunch but she stood her ground. "Ya playin' hard to get?"

Midorima was suddenly beside her. Murasakibara immediately followed, glaring at the monster who had practically given him the injury.

"Ah, look at ya," Silver said, staring down at Murasakibara's broken wrist. "Wanna break the other one?"

"Go home, you scum," said Midorima, putting an arm around Sayuri. "She's not yours, not anyone's. She's her own person."

Sayuri died. Way to be politically correct. She was so proud of him she wouldn't be surprised if she sprouted wings and flew to the sky in bliss.

"Huh? Shame," said Silver. "At least lemme get a kiss."

"You'll have to beat me before I let you do that."

Silver was already swinging his arm and Sayuri was dragging the two boys away when the gorilla let out a guttural noise that was, guaranteed, the most apish about him.

He retracted his arm, staring at the huge hand that only been clenched and inches away from Midorima's nose. A red dart stuck out from a wound between his knuckles, bleeding profusely. Sayuri's nostrils itched at the smell. If it had been another time or another person, she would have volunteered to tend to the nasty gash.

And that dart came out of nowhere. She was sure it didn't come from behind her but—

"Sayu-nee, what're you getting in trouble for?"

Her skin crawled and all of them turned to the throaty voice behind Silver and his gang. The hunched back and lopsided grin were all too familiar.

"Makoto?" she said, her surprise getting the best of her.

He pushed himself from the lamp post he'd been leaning on, a few more differently-colored darts held between his knuckles. He walked to them with a lazy grin, waving at the basketball players behind her. Perhaps it was the shock from the attack, but Silver didn't move until Hanamiya rounded him and plucked out the dart from his hand. He screamed in agony as more blood gushed out of the gaping hole, and Hanamiya casually planted himself between him and Sayuri.

"Makoto, are you—"

"Shut it, Sayu-nee. Your boyfriend and these goody-two-shoes are too scared to protect you. I'm taking over," he said, sticking out his tongue at her and her companions.

"I beg to disagree. Let me help," said another voice and Akashi stood next to Hanamiya, a small, dilapitated smile on his face. He brandished a pair of scissors which glinted off from the sunlight.

_What. The. Hell._

"Ek? You're carrying those with you?" said Kagami from behind them. Aomine and Kise chuckled. One other voice, most likely from Seirin, was heard chanting prayers to the gods.

"Aka-chin, you're not going to cut your bangs again while we're in the middle of a fight, are you?" said Murasakibara.

Confused, Sayuri turned to Midorima. He only adjusted his eyeglasses, keeping his firm hold on her waist.

"Whatcha prattling on about, you fuckin' monkeys?" said Silver, eyes bloodshot from the tears of pain that leaked down his face.

"Say that again," said Hanamiya, dart already poised for release.

"Fuckin' monkeys!" Silver yelled, jerking his head for the rest of the group to attack.

It was insane. Akashi thrust the pair of scissors like he would a sword into the air, narrowly missing the jugular vein of one of the players. He clutched at his neck in panic, thinking he'd been wounded, and nearly stumbled on his feet as Akashi stared him down with a haunting look on his face, lips drawn to a grim line. The way he held his chin in the air made him seem as though he was much taller than the whimpering American. Hanamiya released the dart and it hit the jean-clad knee of another blonde Jabberwock who screamed in agony, rolling on the ground. He quickly relieved him of the dart and a small fountain of blood gushed out. The teenager wailed from the pain.

Silver and his other crony shrank back, retreating while screaming for their mommies (or dogs, whatever those names meant). Hanamiya discarded the darts on the sidewalk and shoved into a jacket pocket the handkerchief he wiped them off with. Pocketing his hands, he turned to Akashi.

"Good going, Emperor," he said, grinning at him, genuinely amused. "Should you wish to refine your skills, you'd know where to find me. We'd make a good combination."

Akashi scoffed. "I'm only occasionally not a good-two-shoe," he said, turning his back to join the rest of the group.

Hanamiya twisted his neck to look at Sayuri, his lazy grin still in place. "Stay out of trouble, Sayu-nee."

He began to turn around and Sayuri jerked free of Midorima's grasp to grab Hanamiya by the arm.

"Idiot," she hissed at him. "What if there were cops?"

"They would never have to know who attacked first, right?" he said, patting her head with more force than to be considered friendly. "Now, go back to your boyfriend."

Sayuri's eyes stung with tears again. "He's not my boyfriend." He cocked an eyebrow and she swallowed. "Yet."

"So? Either way, he's no good," he said, tousling her hair. He looked past her, sticking out his tongue at presumably Midorima before turning back to her. "See you around."

He was about to let go when she pulled him into a hug, burying her face in his chest. "Thank you. But please stay out of trouble."

"That's my line, stupid." He pushed her away gently before flicking her forehead. He then turned on his heels and Sayuri didn't stop him again.

"Wow, you've got a really weird girlfriend, Mido-chin," said Murasakibara.

Sayuri bit her lip. If only they knew. A sinking feeling settled over her, watching the back of Hanamiya, hunched for all his easy-going front riddled with mischief, getting smaller and smaller.

Bandaged fingers sought hers, and she looked up to see Midorima's hardened gaze peering into her eyes. He squeezed her hand, interlacing their fingers, and coaxed her to start walking and head home.

She was thankful for his silence and leaned on his arm. Lately his arms had become more and more a staple to her every day. She liked the way they felt against her cheek, warm and solid and lean.

Perhaps she was so intent on focusing on Midorima's warmth that she almost forgot about the mementos she'd gotten for the boys. She managed to stop them before they parted ways when they got off the train, digging in her bag.

"I was passing by a bazaar earlier this morning when I spotted them," she said by way of explanation as the Magic Seven inspected her parting gift.

They were key chains with miniscule wooden basketball pendants. She had them customized so that all of them had the names of the Magic Seven, painted in their hair colors.

"Aw, this is so cute," said Kise, bumbling to get past Midorima's block and throw his arms around her. "Thank you, Hasegawacchi."

Sayuri returned the favor and gave him a good squeeze.

Aomine smirked. "This is so corny but thanks." She embraced him too, even going so far as granting him an actual kiss on the cheek, much to his satisfaction. If the crimson spots that rode his cheeks and the bright, bright grin were anything to go by.

Kagami smiled and let her hug him tight.

"I'll treasure this, Hasegawa-san," said Kuroko, granting her the elusive smile that reached his eyes. She almost choked him to death and kissed his head over and over again.

Akashi offered a swoon-worthy smile and Sayuri gathered the pink captain in her arms. "Thank you, Hasegawa-nee."

Murasakibara gave her another candy. "Come along with me, Hase-chin? I doubt the bandage'll hold up."

Midorima all but sputtered in his anger and Sayuri shook her head, taking out a sling from her bag.

"Honestly, Sayuri-san, how do you get to bring so much stuff?" asked Satsuki.

"Magic," she replied noncommittally, beckoning the purple giant to scoot over so she could wear it to him. "It's hardly a substitute to a string to remind you in case you forget that you're injured, but it should last until you're home."

"I don't get Hase-chin's logic," he said to her truthfully. "But thanks."

Sayuri grabbed him by his good wrist to ruffle his hair and plant a long kiss on his cheek.

"See you at the Winter Cup," she said to them. "I'll be texting you."

"But we didn't swap digits," said Kise, eyes wide.

"Shintarou's got that covered," she said, waving them off.

Midorima glared when his teammates gave him knowing looks.


	18. Hamper

Basketball practice was canceled one Monday in autumn. Midorima heard it was to accommodate speakers from a university. It was a yearly occurrence; he expected more of these representatives from other colleges to visit the school for promotional orientations intended for the seniors who would graduate in March.

Hearing that, Midorima and Takao set out to go home earlier than usual. Except that they didn't make it past the gym doors when they spotted a very familiar person walking with the representatives about to enter the auditorium.

"Hasegawa-san?" said Takao, following Midorima's line of sight. "So today's Todai?"

"Oi, Midorima, Takao, move it. You're blocking the way," said Miyaji from behind them.

Takao was already smirking when he turned to the captain. "Captain, we can sit in the orientation, right?"

Midorima should've known.

The look Miyaji gave him was confounded, but he spoke nonetheless. "The teachers encourage all students to attend but it's only mandatory for the seniors. Why would you? You have the afternoon off."

Takao gave Midorima a toothy grin and swung his arm on his shoulders. "Ah, well, Shin-chan's pretty serious for his college plans so I thought we'd join them. Right, Shin-chan?"

"Whatever, just don't make a scene. There's no need to trouble the seniors," said Miyaji, passing them by with the rest of the basketball players.

Takao started dragging him out of the gym but Midorima resisted. He turned to him, eyes arched high above his forehead. "What's wrong?"

"You're stupid. The coach can't know we're still seeing her."

Takao rolled his eyes. "We're not going to see her. We're going to sit and watch her deliver her piece like the model high school students that we are."

"The last time—"

Takao pouted. "You're the one who's been going out with her. Let's go."

After much persuading from Takao's end, Midorima had to give in and let himself be draggedd. He was guilty as charged. What made this any different?

That was how he and Takao ended up sitting in the very back row of the auditorium where it was dimmest and most inconspicuous. The theater seats were filled—senior or not, there were lots of students who wished to enter Todai. It was the country's premier state university after all. Perhaps Takao's insistence wasn't at all that bad.

The headmaster said a few words before giving the floor to the speakers. A professor from the Faculty of Economics was first to introduce his companions and Hasegawa, as expected, was the representative for the School of Medicine.

What he didn't expect was her being introduced as the externals vice president of the university student council.

"Wow," said Takao.

Midorima mentally agreed. No wonder she would fall sick. She was too active; Midorima could stand only so much social interaction in a day. He briefly wondered why she ever caught his fancy.

"Hello, students!" she greeted, casual and laid-back. The hand not holding the microphone was tucked in one of the front pockets of the white coat she'd worn over her navy blue pantsuit.

Seeing her wearing the coat with the school emblem stirred something within the pit of his belly. _She_ was going to be a doctor—a confident, positive, and able doctor. Despite his initial inhibitions, he openly admitted to himself that he looked up to her. And he'd like to come close—if not farther up ahead—to what she was going to become.

Of course she would always be ways ahead—she was seven years his senior after all—but Midorima would want to be someone she would be proud of.

_Wait, what?_

Midorima caught himself; when did _that_ start to matter?

"I know most of you would joke about how this kind-of-life chose you but let me turn that around," she was saying, all smiles onstage and gesturing towards a particular slide of the presentation, showing a picture of a group of students in scrubs. "Medicine isn't the type of career that'll one day come knocking at your door and tell you, 'Hey, you're smart enough to try, so why not take me?'"

Midorima blinked. It hit a chord.

"Medicine isn't also the type of career that is convenient only for those who are gifted to make it look like a walk in the park," she continued. "Medicine is the career that you'll have to slave for and have the heart for—to pass the big exams, to properly flay a cadaver, to make it through hospital duty running on zero sleep. At the end of the day, when you're so tired you won't go anywhere near a bed for fear of passing out and sleeping for the next hundred years, you will have to remember why you're aiming to be a doctor in the first place. Whether it's because you really like to expose yourself to viruses and bacteria—kidding—or because you feel an immense sense of satisfaction when you've made an ailing patient better and more hopeful… that's what matters. The medicine life will never choose you. You will choose the medicine life."

Her last statement was met with applause, and Midorima himself clapped for her. The words set him thinking about his own reasons for wanting to be in that field. She was—for lack of a better word—perfect to be a health worker. But he…?

"Oi, Shin-chan," said Takao as they got out of the auditorium. "Did her words move you now?" he asked, laughing.

"Shut up, Takao."

"Why? You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

Midorima rolled his eyes and adjusted his eyeglasses. He was. And he didn't like how worked up he'd become about the future in so short a time. Turning to the small English-Japanese dictionary that was his lucky item for today, his thoughts wandered to a particular word: "purpose".

What was his purpose in life?

He was left to riddle with it some other time, however, when a force that was so familiar almost knocked him and Takao off their feet. They managed to steady themselves before they kissed the ground and turned to Hasegawa who'd draped her arms on their shoulders.

"Sayuri, what are you—"

"Hasegawa-san, the coach—"

She ruffled their hair and grinned. "Uncle Masaaki already knows I'm rebellious so no sweat."

Midorima blanched. "But still—"

"Come on, I'm allowed in my alma mater only once in a blue moon," she said, dragging her feet to get them to move with her. "Let's go to the gym. I'm sure you both need to shoot your daily quota of hoops."

"Practice got canceled—" Takao started.

"Which is all the more reason why we need to be in the gym," said Hasegawa before squeezing their necks with her arms.

Midorima and Takao decided it was best to humor her. Some students had already started staring as they filtered out the hall.

She let them go once they were out of the main building and starting off the covered walkway leading to the gym. It should still be vacated by now, since the seniors hurried off as soon as the orientation was done—to eat out or to do whatever it was that they did when not practicing. Midorima and Takao would never know.

Hasegawa didn't wait for them to open the gym doors—she easily found the latch and pushed them open, stepping inside the dimly-lit room with a skip to her step, her heels clacking against the polished wood.

Takao found the switch some distance away from the doorframe and the lights flickered to reveal the empty court.

"Ah, this brings back memories," she said, her back turned to them, hands clasped behind her.

Takao joined her and offered to show his recently developed plays, shrugging off his uniform jacket to reveal the white shirt underneath. He threw it over his shoulder as he walked to the locker room to retrieve a ball cart.

Hasegawa turned to Midorima who was unmoved from the doorstep, a smile on her face. "Why don't you also give me a demo, Shintarou?"

When she said his name the way she did—like a doting nurse to a child who scraped his knee—, Midorima couldn't refuse. And so he walked up to her and took off his jacket, handing it to her. She did so with a grin and he almost glimpsed the manager that she was six years prior, standing in the same spot outside the line, receiving laundry from players who'd just wiped their sweat off.

He would've liked to see for himself her eighteen-year-old self. Was she this confident and radiant while attending to the team's every beck and call?

With a staggering realization, he concluded that he had started to feel rather possessive of the expressions she wore whenever she was around him or was doing something for him.

"Don't wrinkle it," he said to her.

"Yes, sir," she replied, smiling. "I'll be on the bench."

Midorima nodded and rolled up his sleeves as Takao came back with the cart, whistling a tune.

"You playing, too, Shin-chan?" he asked as he picked up a ball from the pile and started dribbling it.

Midorima adjusted his eyeglasses. "I might as well," he said. "Just one play is enough for today."

Takao cocked his head to the side, still dribbling. The ball bounced on the hardwood floor and echoed through the silence. Hasegawa didn't say a word—she had her hands on her lap, his jacket lying next to her bag.

"One new move, then?" said Takao.

"That's what I'm thinking," Midorima replied, jogging to the half-court line.

Adjusting his eyeglasses, he watched as Takao started off at an easy pace, moving from under the basket towards the free throw line. Then as he had done a few times prior, he made a fake pass, the ball rolling off his fingers but not quite, before pulling back and jumping into the air to shoot the ball.

Midorima followed suit, jumping as the ball made its descent through the air, catching it and throwing a three. The net swooshed as the ball sank in, and Takao gave him a grin.

Hasegawa clapped her hands, peeling herself off the bench to join them in the middle of the court.

"Ooh, that one I look forward to seeing in an actual match," she said, grinning as widely as Takao was. Then she scrunched her lips and looked up at them. "That makes it a lot difficult for the opponent to block, but Takao-kun only do that trick from the inside, right?"

She was sharp enough to tell the drawback of the move but it was the most glaring and Midorima had expected it among dozen others.

"In fact, he can only do it when I'm facing him," he said, nodding. "However, if we can use it to pass after stealing the ball on the opponent's side, I can always turn around and shoot. My range encompasses the whole court, after all."

Hasegawa nodded her head in understanding, her lips turning up to a smile. "That could really prove to be a good weapon. But I suggest you work on shooting threes from the sides, too. It gets rather predictable when your teammates have to constantly draw the opponents to the inside to provide an opening."

"We're working on that," said Takao, grinning.

She flashed them a smile before nodding her head in approval. "I'm sure you'll be formidable this winter," she said.

"Do you play, Hasegawa-san?" Takao suddenly asked, holding up the ball he'd retrieved with one hand.

Midorima thought it was pointless—she was wearing heels and her pants clung to her like glue; he almost blushed when he looked where her coat fell on the back. He averted his gaze.

"I can shoot but not when someone's on me," she said, sheepishly grinning. "I was more of a track-and-fielder back in middle school. Now I'm just your usual jogger."

It didn't deter Takao from offering the ball to her. "Come on, then. Show us."

She eyed the ball before shrugging off her coat and handing it to Midorima. "Don't wrinkle it," she said, mimicking his words earlier but with a teasing note to them.

He took it without another word and she dribbled the ball to the three-point line, directly across from the basket. She hesitated, caught the ball in both hands and turned to them with a glum look on her face. "Don't laugh if I miss."

For someone who was constantly oozing with bravado, she looked ready to melt in front of them.

"Go on," said Takao, laughing.

Hasegawa took a deep breath, dribbled the ball again in her sloppy manner of dribbling before grasping it with both hands and jumping in some other sloppy manner—form completely off—before releasing the ball.

She missed. It didn't even make it to the rim and fell to the ground two feet from the free throw line.

Takao burst out laughing, Midorima's lips curled to a smirk, and Hasegawa covered her reddened face with both hands, stomping her foot on the floor in agitation.

"I knew it!" she said angrily, shaking her head as she marched back to them to snatch her coat from Midorima's grasp. She put it back on, refusing to meet their eyes and walked back to the bench to retrieve her bag and his jacket, handing it over for him to take.

She was still not looking at them when she said, "I feel like going to the locker rooms just to force some nostalgia in this atmosphere."

Takao jerked his head for Midorima to go with her. "Okay, you two go ahead. I'm taking the cart back and I'll be right behind you."

He jogged away to pick up the ball where it landed and shot it back to the pile. Which was stupid—three more balls were knocked out and now he had to chase after them as they rolled across the floor in different directions.

But Midorima could take a hint. He turned to Hasegawa after wearing his jacket and took her wrist to lead her to the locker rooms. She looked less denigrated once they'd reached the empty room and he let go.

She took it as permission to move further into the room, pausing to look at the lockers. Her eyes roved around—to the four benches, to the ceiling, to the windows, then back again to the lockers. He watched her as she purposefully trudged up to Takao's, wrenching it open before he could stop her.

"Hmm. That's neat," she said, as though disappointed. Takao might be a walking megaphone, but he kept whatever it was inside his locker orderly and non-smelly—unlike Aomine and Haizaki—, making him an indispensable partner.

Hasegawa moved on to the locker to the left, and opened Midorima's, a smile on her face. She immediately made a face, looking at him.

"This is so boring," she commented, gesturing to the pair of shoes and bottle of deodorant sitting innocently in his locker. "Why did I even bother?"

"Because you're nosy," he said, adjusting his eyeglasses.

She sighed and turned away, walking to the empty laundry baskets the manager, Otsubo Tae, had left by the drawers where the towels were kept.

Hasegawa stilled, her back rigid, her hands balling into fists as her eyes widened at the sight of something.

Without preamble, she was screaming and flailing as she flew right at him. _"Periplaneta americana!"_ she shouted before she hit Midorima like a rock, knocking the wind out of him.

Midorima quickly recovered and she had already latched to his neck, screaming bloody murder next to his ear. He would turn deaf if she didn't stop.

"Sayuri!" he called, wrenching her off him.

She opened her eyes and stopped in the middle of a scream, lips parted. Perhaps realizing that she had been acting completely unbecoming of an adult, she smothered her expression with shaking hands.

"What's wrong?" he asked as she peered over her shoulder after a while.

"Cockroach," she said in a whisper, still quite alarmed.

"Where?"

She shivered. "Hamper."

"You're afraid of them?"

"They're gross and their hairy legs and large bodies can carry so many parasites. Not to mention the gut flora and—"

Takao appeared by the doorway, confused and panting. "What's the matter?"

"She's afraid of cockroaches," said Midorima, repressing the amusement in his tone.

"They're the filthiest arthropods on Earth!" she said defensively, swatting at Midorima's arm.

Takao chuckled and was pinned down with a glare. Hasegawa hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and started for the door, pushing Takao aside.

"I'm going to talk to my uncle and tell him your manager is neglectful."

Takao and Midorima turned to each other and shrugged, wearing almost identical expressions of mirth on their faces.

"I reckon she'll be waiting outside," said Takao.

"I think so, too."

Takao took a hard broom and killed the cockroach, disposing of the crushed carcass while Midorima disinfected said broom and the laundry basket with soap and rubbing alcohol.

When they stepped out after locking up, they found her standing by the door, frowning. "Come on, I'm famished."

"Hmm, we dunno. We just killed a dirty cockroach," said Takao as they neared her.

"Shut up, Takao-kun. Don't mention it again. Ever."

"If that's what you want."

She glared. "It is."

At least now he knew they were both allergic to filth. Or something like that.

o-o

On their fourth date, Midorima took her to the Ferris wheel. They sat on one side, cuddling and talking about blood types and how they influenced personalities. Midorima was visibly taken aback when she said that she was type A; he was type B.

When he started looking all glum, she whispered close to his ear that she would make it work if he did. He shrank at the feel of her breath, and Sayuri squeezed his hands tighter.

"You know, I really love your fingers," she said, taking his right hand and splaying it on her knee. "They have so much personality."

He adjusted his eyeglasses, the light from the lantern attached to the cars glinting off the lenses. His jaw was still clenched.

"I love your voice," he said, eyes on their clasped hands. "It's soothing."

Sayuri's cheeks burned and she inched further into his hold. Her ear was pressed to his chest, and when she closed her eyes, she could hear its steady beating mirroring hers. It was comforting.

She loved every second of it.

She loved—

_I love you, Shin._

She smiled into his shirt, giggling at the thought of finally telling him. But she had to wait. Besides, she didn't want their first kiss to be as cliché as in a shoujo manga. She wouldn't want to kiss him during a Ferris wheel ride.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she said to his shirt. "I just realized that you're actually a very warm human being."

His heart drummed against her ear at that. Sayuri smiled to herself.

_Please let me be the only one to make you feel this way._


End file.
